Roué (18+ BoyxBoy)

Chapter 1 - My salami ain't your baloney

Chapter 1 – My salami ain’t your baloney

Chapter Song – Mr. Nice Guy - The Kooks

Down below it will harden.

Up above it will thump.

Oughta be quick, boi.

Run Matty boi, run!!

To have had the words written on a Post-it® and placed under a magnet on the fridge didn’t make it any less nutty. It actually rendered the message more batshiz crazy. I contemplated on what I scribbled as I put on my running shoes. Jesus, I hated running. I was always out of breath. And the last time I did, I was touched, caressed, fondled, kissed, lipped, nuzzled, pawed, rubbed, stroked, palmed, brushed, grazed, skimmed, clasped, clung, clutched, grasped, gripped, handled, held, flicked, fumbled, nibbled, patted, tapped, and slurped by three lady boys from Thailand.

But damn, I had no say in the matter. I needed to do my cardio every day for it was said to benefit my health. Engaging in such physical activities would keep my heart in check. It needed to operate at a steady pace under controlled rhythms. And cardio was a good way to achieve that.

I humped every day with just about anyone I could grab. Even if I wanted my bald-headed hermit to exclusively come home to just one cave, I couldn’t. Life didn’t always work that way. Relationships that were solid and true were hard to come by nowadays. Hence, I could say that I haven’t had the chance to fall in love. I had practically fudged hundreds, but never had I fallen in love. Yeah baby, that was how sad Matty Boi’s life was.

As much as I wanted my salami to be someone’s baloney, I just couldn’t. Or maybe I was yet to meet that one person who would tolerate my red-headed monster. I didn’t think there was anyone who could keep up with a nicely-veined, throbbing twelve-inch hunk of meat. And so this was my life. I would always say to myself, ‘hump Matt, hump!’ because the next could be my last.

‘First it hardens, and then the other one thumps’. God, I really didn’t like it when both went awry, because I had no one close to get me by. It was a cycle I had gotten used to since that unfortunate incident when I was young. I couldn’t even remember what happened then. I was very young. It’s a memory I’d been trying to remember.

Fudge me, there are like millions of horny people in the world. Why did it have to be fudging me? I mean, I didn’t have a degree, nor did I have health insurance. All I had was a hard stick and a thumping heart. Ugh.

I refused to take what I have to the doctors. For starters, it was embarrassing. Second, it wasn’t something medical science could cure at the moment. Though I had Googled it, and there appeared to be loose information regarding my condition. And third … well … yeah ... um, sorry I blanked out. I ain’t smart.

To some, taking a serious matter into your own unprofessional hands might complicate things, but not for me, because apparently I was still alive and absolutely humping. And I sure as hell planned on keeping it that way. Regardless of how many I needed to fudge. Yeah baby! Yeah! High five! (cue Tumbleweeds) Oookay … maybe not … Jeez, loosen up yo swagga muffins. Uh!

Crapola, you must think I’m this douchebag now huh? I’m not. I swear on Martha Stewart’s brownies, which are good by the way. You should try them. My author –the one who’s writing me, duh– said that it’s the best recipe for brownies out there. He tried it a couple times and ended up burning his eyebrows. Just ask him. I think he glued on some pubic hair to replace the singed hair in his brows. Ha-ha!