Date: Wed, 25 Dec 2002 21:13:30 +0000
From: David Taylor <hisnamewas@hotmail.com>
Subject: Germ Free

He tells me, 'Yeah, sure, I model, but I'm also very - you know -
spiritual,' and the way that he says it - with his blond hair falling
into his eyes and his teeth straight and white and perfect - I can't help
but feel depressed. 'That's, um, very... deep,' I say blankly. 'Do you
wanna get some coke?'
   And he sort of shrugs, and looks around, and says, 'I'm not sure.
Isn't that kind of wrong? I mean, in a church and everything?'
   I give this some thought and say, 'No. I think it's okay. I think,
uh, the sacrilegious part happened already. When that model had her
period dressed like the Virgin Mary? And besides,' I continue, looking
around. 'I'm not sure that this is a church. I think... maybe... there's
just a lot of candles?'
  And he sighs and says, 'Yeah. A lot of candles.'
  Eventually we decide to go back to my place and do the coke there.
'It's okay,' I assure him in the cab, when he still doesn't seem too
sure. 'The look is very minimalist - there isn't even a hint of
religiosity.'
  My apartment is on 72nd Street, between Madison and Park, and the walls
are painted white, the floors bare and stripped and blond, and sitting on
my futon, in the middle of all this studied blandness, the model looks
like a commercial for The Gap. 'How can you afford this?' he asks flatly.
  'My parents... are loaded.'
  'Oh,' he shrugs. 'I live in Chelsea.'

I'm kneeling down in front of him, and his jeans are bunched around his
ankles, his shirt open, my right hand pressed against his chest, and I'm
sucking on his dick through the fly in his boxer shorts, white and box
fresh, his dick long and thin and clean, and I'm reminded more than
anything of a song by X-Ray Spex, and a particular line that goes, She's
a germ free adolescent, cleanliness is her obsession...
  He pulls his legs up out of his jeans and takes off his underwear, and
switches positions so he's kneeling into the futon, his ass pushed up
into my face, and I start jerking off and licking at his asshole, pink
and clean and odorless. My tongue is darting in and out of his ass,
making it wider, and then I stop and suck on my fingers and push them
inside of him, and he looks at me over his shoulder, smiles like we're
sharing a joke, and I recognize the expression, because I've seen it
before somewhere, maybe on a billboard in Times Square...
  He turns around and starts sucking on my dick, slathering it up, and
once it's wet with spit and pre-cum, he pushes me flat onto my back and
crouches over me and slides down onto my dick, and then I'm fucking him,
his asshole tight but smooth, and we cum simultaneously, his dick
twitching uncontrollably, shooting cum all over my chest...
   We take a shower together, he fucks me, and we dry off. I'm looking in
the mirror when he says, 'Maybe I'll see you again some time?'
   I shrug. 'Whatever.'
   And the next time I do see him, at a club in TriBeCa, he's fingering
some girl in the VIP lounge, and I'm asking this writer guy if he wants
to score some coke...