Date: Mon, 24 Dec 2012 15:23:08 -0500 (EST) From: lovediego Subject: Dirty Sanchez Dirty Sanchez by Lovediego@aol.com Disclaimer/warning: This story is a work of art and fiction. It is also the sole property of the writer and may not be duplicated, re-posted or copied without his expressed permission. This is another raunchy tale from the filthy mind of LOVEDIEGO! It includes depictions of man on man sex, raunch, kinks, perversions and other nasty things. It is not written for everyone, only those into gross shit like this. Nor is it for those under the age of 18, or without a burning desire to read about faggots butt fucking each other's shit filled holes. I wish to thank all of you that loved my, now deleted blog, and have waited patiently for another story from me. I hope this was worth the wait! Please write me and let me know what you think. love diego _______________________________________________________ Part 1: Ah, what's in a name? For some, or most, not much really. To them, names are simple, used to define or separate one thing from another or even to group some things with others. But few, very few actually, think of what a name means to a person, or a member of the group that has to walk under that umbrella or hold tight that banner. They cannot appreciate the weight of those labels and how they can affect the entire trajectory of one's life. But Marco, he understood. Marco Sanchez, first generation Dominican American, Washington Heights New York City resident, brown, male and gay, understood all too well. Names have power, or can attempt to strip you of it; if you let it. "GAY". That was the name of one group he was forcibly lumped into without a choice or permission; well, to be truthful, that wasn't what they were called in his neighborhood. "FAGGOT" was the nicest thing said about those people, his people he guessed. Those people that did those nasty things. Those girls in boys bodies, that liked to put their unwashed dirty penis' inside of another man's rank shit crusted smelly anus, like he should a woman's vagina, and pretend that it's the same, just before wasting his weak milky seed inside of the other faggot's abused and bloody rectum. Those homos deserved anything and everything bad that god, or anyone acting on his behalf, thought they did. Much of it was violence, but even more of it was scorn, ridicule and being ostracized. The latter was the worst thing of all for a young poor Latino that needed all of the help and protection he could get from his family, friends and even neighbors, because Marco was born into a world of poverty, racism, low expectations and even lower achievements. And to this mix was the added weight of homosexuality. Life was many things to Marco, but "gay" would never accurately describe it. Throughout the course of his young life, Marco had heard about them. Nothing good, but many things. Sometimes in hushed tones but more often loudly through alcohol weighted voices, he heard older boys, men and even women and girls talk about what gays did to each other in parks and bus station bathrooms. The boys laughed and talked about how faggots loved, even needed, to suck dick, and get fucked hard in the ass with huge dicks; the bigger the better to rip their dirty buttholes to shreds. It was a sickness with them, a disease with no cure, except one. The women said that once a guy was fucked so violently in the ass by a monster cock, he needed to wear tampons for the rest of his to collect all of the blood that leaks out. Even Maxi pads needed to be worn daily because a homo's loose hole will forever be gaping and runny brown shit juice will leak out of his anus as he walked. The high school kids said that gay sex was messy with shit flying out of the bottom guy's abused ass and onto the other's kinky pubes, bloated balls and blood engorged dick, which was usually caked in nasty white head cheese, because that was the way they liked it. Homos enjoyed eating each other's swollen assholes afterward and chewing on their smelly shit logs before washing it down with a load of hot rank yellow piss. Whenever Marco overheard them talking, as much as he tried to fight it, his teenaged heart would start racing as the blood flew straight to his newly massive sensitive uncut cock. Within moments he would throw a colossal chunk of wood in his dirty shit skidded underwear, forcing his bulbous purple cock head to aggressively break through his tight, almost closed thick foreskin, and drip pearly dollops of pre cum into the soft fabric. Night time, was the right time to get lost in his homo obsessions because at night, when alone in the bathroom taking a shower or shit, he dreamed of fucking a guy in his shitty ass and then licking it clean after he dropped his hot load inside of the hungry hole. He sure did want to taste another guy's steamy acrid piss and then share it with him in a long spit laced passionate kiss. Fuck YEAH!, he wanted to kiss another guy and taste his hot breath on his wet tongue, while swallowing his saliva before dropping to his knees, taking his bloated member into his craving mouth and cleaning his entire smegma crusted cock. Marco also craved to sniff and lick a dudes funky armpits and even huff and slobber on his stinky feet before sucking on his toes, as he jacked his fat cock like a fiend. Nothing could please him more than to bury his nose in a guy's ripe jock strap or nasty dirty draws as he searched out thick skids of butt mud and piss drips, before attacking his skank hole with his tongue and eating like a starving man at a butthole buffet. If all homos went to hell, he knew that heaven on earth lay inside another man's raunchy shitter. That was how he knew he was a faggot, because he wanted to do all of those thing, and more. Marco was hungry for a man's shit and thirsty for his piss. He was infected with the disease. When lost in thought and almost mortal dread, Marco most often wondered if he was an even more deviant version of homosexual because he loved his own bodily smells and secretions just as much as other dudes', if not more. He had an almost twisted fascination with the increasingly pungent stink of his seasoned hairy teen armpits after a long run, but most, and even possibly worst of all, Marco couldn't seem to get enough of the musky stench rising from his slimy butthole before, but preferably after, taking a long creamy unwiped dump. One time, after taking a particularly impressive shit, the intoxicating earthy smell having filled the small bathroom, Marco was drawn to finger his gross shitter. Hypnotized by the strong smells emanating from his gaping virgin asshole and the vision of the large brick he birthed circling the porcelain bowl made his fat cock awaken and rise to its full engorged glory. Marco was powerless in the face of his own sexual arousal and quickly gave in to his natural urges. Slowly, but with high intention, Marco lovingly circled the outer soft creases of his puffy pink anus, as he let out a soft moan and accompanying loud fart. From his memory, the chocolate log still fuming with the funk of his intestines, was the largest and smelliest of all of his shits. Buried within his subconscious was a small voice, gaining in confidence and ability to yell, that was very proud of this dump and wanted to enjoy it as much as possible before needing to flush it out into the ocean. Marco's hole was still screaming in pain and pleasure at letting out such a large piece of crap. He wondered if a fat cock going in would feel as good as a big turd escaping. Marco didn't even try to close his loose lips, knowing that it was too soon and he was too sore for it to be any more than a mission impossible. With each breath he took, another loud and funky fart burped from his gaping shitter and scented the bathroom in even more of the heady scent of his insides. As his head spun in ecstasy, his cock bounced up and down, leaking pearls of slimy pre jizz onto his bare thighs. There was only one thing to do at that point; finger fuck his nasty boy pussy until stinky spunk jet free from his cock. Deeper and deeper his digit plunged inside of the unclean orifice, releasing more of the tang of his colon. One last rumbling fart escaped his butthole, along with his hairy finger, as he soon brought it to his huffing nose. His nostrils flared, as his hazel eyes widened at the vision of thick brown shit coating his finger. Contrary to anything he would have thought, the site of his own excrement painting his hand didn't gross him out or make him want to vomit, actually...it looked delicious to him. Mouth wide open, almost as much as his ass, Marco began to salivate and drool like a madman. The shit on his finger looked tasty, and he was so fucking hungry. Before Marco could control himself, his finger was rubbing against his taste buds, leaving its brown mark in his mouth. He swallowed with a loud gulp and still, greedily wanted more. He repeated the digging, smelling and sucking actions until his anus was totally clean and his white teeth coated in stinky fecal matter. The nutty, almost earthy flavor made him feel safe like some sort of bizarre comfort food. Just as soon as it began, his feasting was over. Looking down at his skid marked draws crumpled on top of his sneakers, Marco decided then and there he loved his own shit, even the look of it got his dick to spit pre cum. He was determined to one day live in a world made up of guys like him. And then it was over, like nothing different or out of the ordinary had happened, Marco ran his tongue along his teeth, swallowed the remnants of shit and left the bathroom still reeking of his butt load. It was a good moment but sad day for him because he was still in hiding and very much alone. He was no longer in the mood to cum, or even jerk off for that matter. There was no load large enough to ease the pain of loneliness he was feeling. After reaching puberty, and gaining 4 inches on his already fat cock, Marco learned the beauty of the look, smell and taste of his home made fetid cock cheese and the salty sweat that dripped from his newly shaggy cum filled balls. Without a man around the house, he had to teach himself about his maturing male body, and this involved a lot of experimentation. By the time he graduated from high school, Marco had smelled, tasted, eaten and/or drank anything and everything his body made...and LOVED it all. Somehow Marco was able to fly under the gaydar of those looking to do him any serious damage. In those days they didn't call it bullying, it was called what it was...a fag bashing, a beat down, an ass kicking, getting jumped, or just plain ole getting fucked up. No matter what it was called, Marco didn't want to be on the receiving end of that form of community justice. He kept his head low, and feet tight to the ground. He was smart but didn't let too many people know it. He played baseball and ran track but stayed away from football and basketball, which attracted more Blacks because he irrationally thought they would intrinsically know his deep dark secret. In his fear filled young mind, he was convinced that his love of and for males could never be contained around so many hyper-masculine dudes. Each one of them dripping teenaged testosterone, as they walked around the locker room buck ass naked, joking and laughing, with big dicks and heavy nut sacs bouncing from thigh to thigh, as they played grab ass, like they did in his jerk off fantasies. These were just his unrealistic and unsubstantiated horrors of course, but they ruled his life just as much as any facts or actions could. When around other Latinos, he felt almost safe, or at least safer than when around Blacks or whites. He knew his place in his culture and that it was ok to be pretty-handsome like he was, without anyone thinking anything of it. Around his block, lots of guys looked like him, acted like him, talked and walked like him. He was normal when at home, but once he left his neighborhood all bets were off. Latinos love pretty people; male and female. Marco saw it every day as guys with hair longer and more lush than the girls they were fucking strutted like cocks of the walk. Clear skin, colorful shirts, tight pants showing a bulging uncut dick and fat round ass, was just as normal to see as the sun in the sky. And no one thought anything of it. As long as you never said, admitted, or acted like a homo, you were safe. But Marco didn't like to take chances. One wrong step or word could brand you for life. He didn't even admit that he knew the colour pink existed. High school was a nightmare that he couldn't wake up from and community college was just a blur of studying, tests, and dish pan hands from working in one shitty restaurant after another to cover the cost of books, and Metro Cards. While his white classmates went out drinking and partying, Marco pinched every penny and kissed every dollar, as he supported himself, gave money to his mother to help pay the rent on their ghetto-ass apartment, and throw a few coins to his twin younger brothers to keep them off the street and away from the gangs that couldn't wait to recruit them as drug runners. He was the man of the house, even though everything he was ever told said that a fag could never be real man. Marco had a dad, obviously, but his mother, preferred to call him a sperm donor, in her broken English, and using language she learned from Oprah and Doctor Phil. She was a beautiful but bitter woman, his mother, and attracted very handsome men, who unfortunately weren't ready or mature enough to be fathers or a husband. Marco, and his mother, was a responsibility his father just couldn't handle. After his birth, he was gone before the doctor had a chance to slap him on his new born brown ass. Maybe he looked right into his sparkling hazel eyes and saw a hardcore faggot staring back at him, and just couldn't bear the thought that this " he-she thing" was what he helped bring into this good Christian world. A shitty butt fucking, dirty dick licking, piss drinking homo. If that wasn't bad enough, Marco's mother found another smile to believe in and Latino cock to ride 6 years later. The almost crackhead dude that dropped just enough slimy nut seed to produce his twin brothers Johnny and Frankie, well he was only slightly better than his own dad because he at least stayed around until they could start calling him Papi and asking for special shit, like food. Marco wondered if their father saw future faggots in them too. He'd always heard it ran in the family, so it was possible that they could be gay too. Or maybe he didn't want people thinking that he was Marco's father as well, affording him the dubious distinction of only being able to produce a band of faggots as his legacy. Like Marco, the twins didn't have the absolute best hygiene, evidenced by the way they smelled and the notably deep skidded and piss soaked draws they wore for days. Their mom marked their boy panties with the letters "J" and "F" on the waist bands, even though they shared everything, including underwear. Filthy size small fruit of the looms, batman and Spiderman underpants could always be found hanging up on the floor of their bedroom or left casually on the bathroom tile. Their draws always had the look of being hastily abandoned, along with the rest of their clothes, as nudity was common when their mom wasn't home. Even Marco spent most of his time in his bedroom, kicking back, naked, with his smelly aching hooded dick pointing at the ceiling as his long hanging sac rested on his filthy sheets crusted with nocturnal emissions, sweat, drool and his latest blast of teen seed. None of the Sanchez boys found anything odd about seeing a swinging cock, even an erect one, as they walked around their apartment. When Johnny and Frankie hit puberty, the funk of new maleness, unencumbered by clothing, perfumed the air. Their shared bathroom door stayed open even as one was taking a shower, shit or just brushing his teeth with his uncut brown cock resting against the cool porcelain sink. All three boys sported boners almost constantly, but never spoke of it. This was normal for their family, and they enjoyed every single moment of it. As the eldest, Marco was chief baby sitter and clothes washer when his Mom was working, which was often, so he saw any proof of gayness, no matter how well hidden. He watched their little bad asses as they played, for any signs of faggotry or homosexual traits like those he nurtured inside. He wanted to see if they had a fascination with their dangling uncut cocks like he did with his, did they hold them at night like a fetish, did they enjoy smelling their own farts, digging in their noses or dirty buttholes and then sniffing, and hopefully sucking on the dirty digits when no one was watching. To his relief he never saw the tell-tell signs of future butt fuckers even though some of their actions were suspect; they liked to sleep together, in the same bed, naked, wrapped in each other's arms, even though Johnny wet the bed, and by effect wet Frankie, until he was 12. The twins held hands (around the apartment) and nurtured each other in a special fashion. Johnny and Frankie touched each other's small but growing dicks absentmindedly and could be found sitting on top of each other as they watched cartoons and ate cereal. They ate off of each other's plates and even chewed food directly from the other's mouth, during their gross out games. Marco noticed they even liked to bathe and, as they got older, shower together long after other boys their age wanted privacy. But most of all they protected each other fiercely against any that would come between, or wish to harm, them. Marco chalked this up to them being twins more than anything else but most of all he truly hoped he was the only one with this curse. Any other, sane, person would have immediately noticed that Johnny and Frankie were at least gay for each other, but Marco needed to live in denial for at least a little while longer. So there she was, his mom, an immigrant, with low English speaking skills, in a foreign country, few job skills, even less education, 1 (possibly 3) homo kids and no man. Good thing she had two shitty jobs to keep her occupied, and barely keep on top of the family bills. And in the mix of all of this, was Marco, her confidant. The one that heard all of the stories about how fucked up and useless men were. How they were good for nothing except a good fuck, if his limp dick was big enough, and maybe dinner at a shitty restaurant , like the ones Marco would eventually work in, if and only if you sucked his ugly smelly cock and swallowed his skanky cum load, but nothing else. Marco, who heard and understood that men, if they could be called that, were unreliable liars after one thing, and one thing only. Marco who learned these lessons well because he would need them, since he truly understood, that deep down he was a faggot and would spend his life around those same sorts of men because...well isn't that what all men are? After eight years of pining over every man beautiful man with brown skin that he saw, like a suburban white school girl, Marco was used to living life with only his left hand, and a good sized dildo for companionship. He learned the ropes of hiding and denying. He wasn't straight acting, no, he passed acting a long time ago, he was straight perfected. Except for the sex part. The idea, the very thought of putting his prized 9 inch uncut dick inside of a girl nauseated him about as much as straight guys thinking about fucking a guy's nice tight hairy hole. Marco was a guy that just happened to love other guys, but never really considered himself gay, because that was a luxury for the rich and white. He needed to stay alive to help his family survive, and being some flaming queen that couldn't get a job or keep himself safe wasn't going to help anyone. Gay pride was just too expensive on his budget. And anyway, from what he saw of the homo community, Marco was glad he stayed away from those back stabbing swishy bitches that only wanted to fuck, or usually get fucked by strangers in some seedy bar and get back to their mixed colourful cocktails and even bitchier friends. He'd seen these actions time and time again, but it was the first time that stuck with him the most. One night, when he was still in college, just finishing a double shift of scrubbing pricy, leftover food, off of a huge stack of fancy dishes, Marco decided to take a shortcut to the train back uptown. For all of the obvious reasons Marco avoided the Village, and Christopher street especially, like the plague, but it was cold and he was very tired, so he broke one of his biggest rules. It wasn't long before a group of white gays, drunk and loud, tried to buy him for the night. Of course he had to be a hustler, being brown and out at night. For 3 blocks they followed him, screaming cat calls and saying how they had more money than his family would see in a month in their pockets. It was demeaning and he felt like less than a person as he tried to ignore the painful words that stung his ears but hurt his heart even more. The worst part was that actually, he thought they might just be right, as he only had 3 dollars to his name, a stack of bills at home and 2 little brothers that wanted to go to college...a real college, not some shitty community half-starter, but they didn't have to say it. Suddenly, surprising even himself, he snapped and with his accent tinted deep voice, told them to "fuck off". It took all of 2 seconds before he went from being a hot fuck to being called everything from an illegal immigrant, to Spic AND even nigger. Truth be told, he wasn't surprised. But something inside of him died that night, something that used to whistle in the back of his mind like a sweet song on a summers breeze. It was comforting to think that one day, someday he would find himself at home among other gays. That he would be welcomed with open arms, like a child finally returning home after being lost in the woods. But he knew, deep down he always knew, that he straddled one world that hated him because he loved men, and another that would never accept him because he had brown skin. How could he be expected to willingly pick between homophobia and racism? to be continued......