VOLUME TWO: CHAPTER FOUR

I Mean Yes, I Came Out Of One Of Those When I Was Born, But That Doesn't Mean I Want A Part Of My Anatomy To Go Back Into One.

The six hours of time I had to wait until midnight at which time of night I could be buggered to within an inch of the elasticity of my anus by Tommy in some public toilets were among the most sexually frustrating of that day.
“Tick! Tock!” went the clock in the room where I was.
But after an hour it also in my head went to me “Tick! Cock!” because I was thinking about and waiting impatiently for cock.
After another hour it then began to go in my head to me “Lick! Cock!” because I was thinking in more detail about what I was going to do to Tommy’s cock.
In my head after an hour, other, then it began to go “Suck! Cock!” because while I enjoyed licking Tommy’s cock, the act of licking was a sexual stepping stone on the way to putting Tommy’s penis into my expectant and grateful mouth.
It began then to go, another hour after “Fuck! Cock!” because it was proper gay procedure, after having eaten Tommy’s meat like a Calypso ice lolly, to wrap my anus around his penile lamppost like a car around a regular lamppost when it has crashed into one like when Tommy’s erection crashes into and up my bum hole.
It another then hour go began to after “Like! Cock!” because I was gay and liked cock.
When I left the dank old cottage to go to the village green public toilets it began to go “Like! Tock!” because I was still gay but for some reason had become more aware that it was a clock rather than an hourly gay metronome. I walked across the green grass of the green, my penis and balls shuddering with excitement at seeing and being ramrodded to bits by Tommy. When I entered the gentlemen’s’ toilets I knocked on the locked door of the cubicle, like how my erection with each homosexual throb was knocking on the locked door of my buttoned up denim trousers which I wore then and on other occasions too.
“Tommy?” I questioned, “It’s me who’s saying this, ‘me’ being Donald.”
“Come in then, please, I want to have sex with you so much” said Tommy, in a strangely heterosexual female woman way. I opened the door which Tommy had unlocked and recoiled in disappointed horror at the heterosexual female woman (breasts, handbag, pink clothing, earrings, red lipstick, sundry makeup and all) that stood where I had thought Tommy was to be stood.
“You aren’t Tommy!” I screamed at her, my erection shrinking so fast that some of the shaft genuinely was sucked into my torso in disgust, because I was gay and she a woman was.
“Yes I am, my name is Tommy: I am a local harlot who thinks that you are really attractive and wants to have sex with you here and right now, if you would”, she said, scared at my screaming but not scared enough not to want to have straight sex relations. She then told me why I had to do sex to her, and the reason was so convincing and compelling and meant that I absolutely had no choice but to do it that I can’t remember what it was. It was really important though, that I do remember to it.
“Alright then” I said, evidently convinced by this reason that she had given me. She took off her dress and I groaned with revulsion and disappointment. She barely had one ‘pack’, let alone eight, and where her pecs should (in my opinion) have been were a big, swollen, monstrous pair of women’s tits. The cupping effect of her bra meant that I could have pushed my penis between her breasts and experienced friction by it, but by heavens I did not want that. Or to do that.
“Eugh” I said at her breasts and non-muscular body, “that’s all crap.”
“Goodness, you really are gay” she said, observing that my sad, shrivelled penis had retracted a further three inches upon receipt of the sight of her emphatically woman’s body. She then took off her bra from off and around her beastly chest, letting her terrible, aggressively pert and pointed breasts lollop around, unlike a pair of Tommy’s pecs would have done. I tentatively prodded one and it wobbled like a balloon full of wallpaper paste. I wretched violently and had to deposit some vomit in the toilet which, to her credit, we were in.
“I hate your breasts, Tommy” I muttered, darkly, “one would have been bad enough but two is just really unfair for me.”
“I like your really muscular body and handsome face and general demeanour, Donald” she said back to me, as if expecting me to find the silver lining in the least erotic cloud that had ever rained a request for straight sex on me. Such a search was not going to happen because every inch of her body disgusted me to my core, because I’m really gay.
“I suppose you’ll want to get your vagina out” I said, pretty but not quite sure that this would have to happen if we were to have sex. My suspicions were confirmed when she got out her vagina. I hated every centimetre of it. It didn’t look anything like a penis, let alone Male Gay Tommy’s penis. It just hung there in ugly, sad, heterosexual folds, lazily waiting for a generous (if reluctant) penis which, on this occasion, was to be mine. There was at least some hair growing there. Not out of the vagina but above it. But it was blonde. And insufficient in quantity to trick me into thinking that this horrendous disgrace of a sexual organ could belong to someone I could be gay with.
“Jesus, that is vile” I managed, working harder than I did mining coal earlier to suppress my gag reflex. What made it all the more miserable was that in between the revelation of each of her horrid woman things and my harsh critical judgements of them we had fantastic and stimulating conversations like Man Tommy and I did.  I really liked her as a person and could have enjoyed an intimate romantic attachment to her. If the sight of her naked hadn’t made me want to vomit up my guts, that is.
“How am I to get an erection, Tommy?” I asked, asking a question I would never have had to have to ask the real, really gay Tommy.
“Shoot!” she cursed, “I am all out of Viagra pills!”
“Do they make a penis hard?”, I asked, not knowing the answer to the question myself.
“Yes, but unfortunately I didn’t have and never have had any of them to begin with, so don’t have any now” she answered my question and provided clarification for her previous remark with.
“Well there’s no chance of a hard cock with only that foul mess to look at” I said, referring admittedly a touch meanly but honestly and homosexually to her body.
“Why don’t you pretend that a part of my body is a part of a man’s body?” she suggested, after having wept tears of hurt and shame for five minutes as a result of my last remark about her appearance. She hadn’t asked for an apology so I didn’t give one. I wiped the tears with a cloth off of her breasts, because they looked even worse wet, and followed her advice, by looking at the mean, not cock-like vagina and pretending that it was the gay, erotic Tommy’s anus. To my surprise this started to make some erectile progress because my penis came back out from my torso in which it had been hiding. I then had what I though was the better idea of looking at her anus and pretending that it was Tommy’s anus, but when I did so this didn’t work and my cock retracted again, so I looked at her anus and pretended it was her vagina, so that I could pretend it was Tommy’s anus. But I then realised that I had added an unnecessary degree of separation between myself and the image of Tommy’s anus so went back to looking at her vagina, but I couldn’t muster more than a sad twitch.
“Oh, we’ll never have full sex at this rate”, she complained, despite the fact that I was doing my best to stomach my utter revulsion.
“But we have to have that!” I said, because we really had to as a matter of life and death for the reason she did give me and that I accepted.
I then caught sight of myself in the mirror, and because I was an attractive man my cock got hard enough to insert it into her expectant vagina. I had, while she had been weeping earlier, surfed the internet (which thankfully my smart phone subscribed to) for information about female genitalia, so that I knew where precisely my penis was going.  I pushed through her vulval vestibule which dragged wetly and drearily along the shaft of my erection, and through the undeserving hole of the vaginal opening to into her vagina.
“Oh dear.” I said, wanting to be sick. It was rubbish. There was enough room to swing a cat in there; my penis wasn’t so much being clung to like an anus would but being indifferently cradled like a baby by a bad mother. The excess room meant that there were gurgling and smacking sounds as my penis navigated the spaciousness of Tommy’s insides, and occasionally some air from outside would get trapped within, and bubble and fart around my cock in a way that made me unhappy to be doing what I was doing. It was just as I had begun pumping this repulsive atrocity of an orifice, with her damp, slapping labia engulfing my helpless gay cock that the door of the cubicle swung open to reveal Actual Gay Tommy That I Was In Love With!
“Oh my”, said Dreadful Woman Tommy, presumably both because of the intrusion and the sight of Hot Tommy had caused my erection to augment by several glorious inches, which she must have felt.
“Donald!” wailed Tommy, “You are straight! How could you! You bloody liar!”

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CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE