Posts Tagged ‘BoySlut Magazine’

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.


 

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 …

Devlin De La Chapa

Posted: May 9, 2017 in Musing, Poetry
Tags:

 

love with a Poet sucks

 

I read your poem

I liked your poem

it said everything

but conveyed

nothing worthy

of redeeming us

just a disclaimer

and a discretion

attached to a refund

of words

written just for me

 

 


 

KYLE

 

It was freshman year of college Kyle

you and me hanging out in your room.

Me crying over the boyfriend

I left behind back home,

you doing the same about your girl.

It was a new city for me, Kyle

and I didn’t have any friends yet really

and I thought that maybe this could be

just that

after you hugged me goodbye

and held on for a little too long.

But it wasn’t until two years later

outside poetry class

when you came up to me

angry

and called me a tease

told me that I had started something

that day that I didn’t finish.

Made me remember

10th grade when Rob told me

the worst thing a girl can do is give

a guy blue balls.

When he said that I started to think I had some kind of power

over boys

a power I needed to be careful with.

Something that could medically cripple them,

I thought of this

as the word

slut

bubbled up out of your mouth

and I realized there is power here

but it does not belong to me, Kyle.


 

Any problems?

Yes, I’m standing at the window

Watching the streets, watching life:

Blue herons, red packets of JPS,

Cobalt blue pills, my closest friends –

Too bad the blind and their dogs,

Too bad the crippled in wheelchairs

Don’t give a damn for this set,

Such a waste of colours!

Oh, fancy that, an old man in green trainers

Is spinning a green windmill, is it hope’s day today?

Heck, no one to ask, Cassandra lost in her thoughts

Wondering ‘are souls for sale?’ while staring

At an empty bottle, the draught is looming,

But no one listens, of course,

Kore shrugs it off, lost in her longing

For those wild white waves

Where she can drown fears and failures,

‘Cept they keep afloat smearing the water –

Plastic is a tough thingy, sister,

Only the fire might dissolve them

But she says no, no, dunno why –

Before I forget, where the heck are you, misery,

Still dragging across the desert

Looking like mad for an oasis?

There, only few miles and you’ll camp in my mind

As soon as the sky flakes out before the screen –

But mind the sins, they’ll cut loose until dawn

And no, don’t ask who gave them flesh, limbs

You must fill, feed, slake, those bodies

Ridden hard and put up wet:

Water, joy, light –

Oh say you can see Pan dancing wild

Among the crowds before the Earth falls silent,

Say you can hear him shouting if my heart

Is game for fun and blast when the shocking moon

Highlights my failures and the blissful lovers –

You can’t, right? Well, neither can I go

All Django Unchained on my earth, my sins,

My heart waiting for the bloody rhythm to quit –

C’mon, God, c’mon border life, we are great pals,

That’s why I so enjoy our jokes, our spats,

That’s why you know I’ve fouled things up

‘Cause I was in love with gardens, dreams

And Jewish blondes –

Only, the writer killed off the lights

After a fast ride on his bike –

Madly in love, I mean, God,

Simple as that, border life –

I kid you not.

 

 

STELA XEGA

Posted: May 5, 2017 in Poetry, Prose
Tags: ,

THE END

Love.
I knew i was in love when sleeping
On your floor 
Was better then sleeping 
In my own bed

I knew i was in love when staying in your arms
Was all i wanted 
and was better then every other place on earth

I knew i was in love when I cried into coffee cups
and kept drinking anyway, 
slept nearly 20 hours a day 
Since last Friday

I held onto the hope of you
tighter than my own sanity

I have felt
pathetic
and wrong
and amazed

I knew i was in love when at nights 
I wish that with my last breath
I’ll exhale  my love for you
And i desperately hoped
It was a cold night
So you could see what you meant to me

I knew i was in love when we were staying 
Together in bed and i wrote
‘ Please don’t leave me ‘ 
With my fingertips on your skin

I knew i was in love when i decided to let you go and I’m happy
That’s the perfect end for a piece of shit  story like this

And now i think i might brutally murder the next person
Who says they love me and leaves

I knew i was in love when you looked at me
In the middle of the night
Rain pouring on our faces, phones constantly ringing 
with pity somehow and said
‘ listen, i have to go, i don’t know what to say ‘ 
And i tiredly answered ‘ Don’t worry i know what we are
And i know what we are not ‘

I knew, i just knew that i wanted it to much 
And you didn’t want it enough 
A basic imbalance

My mom told me once 
‘ stop setting yourself of fire for someone 
Whostays there and watches you burn ‘
I guess mom was right

I knew i was in love when i realised i used to shake 
At the single thought of you loving someone else


 

a monster, truly 

it’s a shame

you can’t drink tea

anymore

perhaps you ought’ve

stuck with

drinking coffee,

but no one would say

you were the most

sensible;

you did trade a ruby

for a marble

you were the wolf that turned

to shatter the heart of a girl whose

only crime was loving you—

i remember you told me i didn’t have

a temper,

but you should have felt the impact

of a hurricane by now;

i hope every time you’re with her

you’re haunted by the shadows of my name

that the sunsets of my dreams shatters through

yours causing only nightmares

until you can look yourself in the face and see yourself

for what you truly are:

a monster.

 

Devlin De La Chapa

Posted: May 5, 2017 in Musing, Poetry
Tags:

 

she wasn`t a Playboy Bunny

 

she spat toothpaste

into the sink

mumbling

that there was

nothin`

“underground“

about my poetry

nothin` worthy

of Bukowski & ink;

she had

pink pubic hairs

and her old man

drank a lot of

nothin`

while I stood there

thinkin`

on how

I was a fool

to believe

easter eggs

fell

out of her snatch

 

 

Catfish McDaris

Posted: February 17, 2017 in Fiction, Flash
Tags:

Hot Pussy

My lady’s female friends always came over for gab fests and ate all our food and drank most of our beverages, which irritated me. The worst thing was they stayed until late into the night and took forever to say goodbye. They were always going to the bathroom to powder their noses, so to speak. This gave me a brilliant devious idea on how to cut their visits short. I went on line to the Lava Co. and ordered Thai Dragon Powder and Bhut Jolokia Red Powder, two of the hottest peppers there are. I diluted the powders with flour and rubbed them in a roll of toilet paper before my lady’s next party. I hung my trap and waited for the results. It wasn’t long before most of the women were squirming and corkscrewing, trying to dry rub their burning crotches on the couch. They were soon grabbing their purses and heading for the door. I was trying to hide my mischievous grin from my quizzical lady. She knew something was up, but couldn’t quite figure it out. When she went upstairs for her shower, I switched the paper and got rid of the burning evidence and scrubbed the toilet seat. I sat down and laughed like hell and read my book by Pearl Sydenstricker Buck, The Good Earth. It was all amusing until my lady’s boss had a heart attack after a huge dump that clogged the toilet. We had to call an ambulance and a plumber. All the women stared at me with accusations in their eyes.

 

Caitlin Hoffman

Posted: February 17, 2017 in Fiction, Flash
Tags: