Carlos Yabrudy: Is It Just Pretty to Gritty?
There's a great American gay short story about a bloke who picks up a total living doll and has the best sex of his life.
Amazingly, he manages to hook up with the same guy again, not long after. And still has pretty hot sex. And notices that the living doll has a chipped tooth. Not as perfect as he'd remembered. And then again a few months later ... . He was a bit surprized by the doll's quite rancid breath. And realized he was not nearly as smart as he'd thought cos ... . And so on and so on ... . Till he couldn't stand the bloke and made strenous efforts to avoid ever bumping into him again.
Now, Carlos Yabrudy reminded me of this story:
In the sense that every new photo I found of him left him less than before:
And it went on as I built up this set:
Not that I now can't stand seeing another photo of Carlos! Or have stopped looking for images of him.
Am I more of an optimist? Or is it that I can actually better imagine having sex with grunt with the rougher, heavier and older version of Carlos in the last pic? I can certainly more easily fantasize my grittier obsessions: chewing on his nipples, eating his armpit ... .
And, God knows, I seriously embarass myself when I realize the limp-wristed sex I am only able to conjure up when I fantasize over the initial image of Carlos in this post!
yep, isn't it! Yum Yum
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