Carl’s Existentialism VI

Blog_Carl’s ExistentialismIs it crazy that some of my favorite poems are about death and finding solitude? Maybe it is because I’m not overly exposed to a wide variety of poetry. Or it’s because there is something about loneliness that attracts me. Perhaps, it is the safety and comfort it offers, with the satisfaction that no one can hurt me in my bubble. Or maybe it’s my sheer curiosity, born out of nothingness.

Two of my favorite poems right now are I Am! by John Clare and Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye.

From I Am!, my favorite part is: Continue reading

Kiss And Tell (Entry 1)

Blog_Kiss And TellFOREWORD: KingBey has had sexcapades, and he is talking about them. 🙂 This is the first entry of his debut series. Read and — Oh whaddaell, you’ll surely let us know what you think after you’ve read this. lol

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And that was how I was on my own on a cold, rainy season evening. This was in April 2008, and I was in school, Abia State University. I’d just finished my degree exams the November of the previous year, but I often came around to the school every now and then to complete and defend my project.

This particular evening, I was seated at a kiosk around the Boy’s Hostel sipping on a Sprite and munching biscuits. Then this tall, dark, slim, young, kind-faced and soft-spoken student pastor came up to preach to me. Let me add here that the school happened to be on vacation then. So the environment was scanty, especially the hostel area. The students who were around were mostly those on the project completion mission as I was, part-time students and some few regular students with one academic issue or the other. So this good-looking student pastor approached me, requested to sit with me, and at my nod, he sat on the bench beside me. Even before he started talking, I knew he was on an evangelical mission. There was this obvious air of righteous rectitude about him that had him pegged. Continue reading

12 BANGS A SLAVE

gay_love_400He was a strapping young lad, sixteen years old. He worked in our house, not very smart looking. Just a kid with freckles doing manual things. He wore linen shorts most of the time, and behaved like all sixteen year old house boys.

Then I began to notice that this tiny boy had a big penis. Height wise, he was probably five feet. Dick wise, he was Texas. No, all fifty-one states and then some.

He would be sitting around and he would have spontaneous erections. And to make it worse, he seemed totally oblivious. I was inflamed with lust and curiosity at the wonder of that massive bulge on such a tiny person . . . So, I watched for days . . . Until my opportunity came. Continue reading