Likes Boys Loves To Party 3
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Likes Boys, Loves To Party......Part 1 free porn video
Likes boys, loves to party... A tale of the Evil Fag-Hag
Part 1
"You need to come to this party on Saturday night, Donny." Gordy
Locke wheels up on his motorbike to enthuse. Just one leather clad
biker buddy to another. It happened in the parking lot outside of our
favourite occult bookstore.
Too bad for them, the Fag-Hag and certain others happened to hear
it. I'm Allan Sheppard, by the way, just some thirty-something loser
in life who happens to be openly gay.
"The Cherry Popper!" Donny perks up loudly enough for us to hear:
"That's what the guys in the gang called the party last year. You'd
have to be into boys - If you can't get laid at THAT ho-down!"
"They've invited lots of high school bitches." The one named Gordy
perks up to add: "There were virgins last year."
"Pretty girls getting high on dope and gallons of keg beer - and
right on this isolated farm." Donny starts talking excited again.
"I'll sure be looking for a tighty virgin there," Gordy lamely
promises.
"You'll see me camping out all night there - For Sure!" Donny says
like he means it. "I'd like to nail a tighty virgin for once."
Donny was this dark haired youth who hung out with his blond haired
buddy, Gordy. Both were adorably cute, little 18 year old males who
grew up in the same neighbourhood and belonged to this local biker
gang.
'The N-forcers', this wheeled band of mostly beefy, older bearded
dudes, but the pretty pair wasn't inside the gang's inner circle, of
course. The hard-core older criminals knew both lovely young males as
kids, you'd think they adopted them both as mascots or something.
"Like puppies yearning for affection," The Fag-Hag complained to me
about the macho kids more than once. Her idea of the lovely young
males trying to earn their gang's respect, I suppose.
"I'd be willing to bet." The Fag-Hag says to me somewhat annoyed:
"Not ALL the lovely virgins at their party - will be Girls!" That was
about her comment after the motorcycle party boys rode away.
"Those pretty male hoods have banged girls before." I remarked to
the her knowingly. Sometimes, their older biker buddies would throw a
party lasting for days. Older, more jaded females would often go for
their cheerful young spirit.
Romantic company plus that teen male sex drive.
"They're still virgins when it comes to same-sex, Allan." The Fag-
Hag points her evil finger to remind me.
The Fag-Hag looked seventy if she was a day. A powdery form of
mascara defined the lines of an aging face. Today she was dressing
more corporate fashionable, wearing a tweed suit and skirt, a longer
woollen skirt and in sensible shoes.
A former fashion model, her greyish hair was usually made up in this
1920's girly style. With short curvy waves and often wearing this
hooded, Medieval looking cloak.
"Like the bad guy in some Robin Hood movie," some guys have
described her to me. "Jackals', was the term she used to describe
them.
The beefy rogue males from our local motorcycle gang, entering the
Fag-Hag's beloved, new-age party scene in order to meet the girls and
get laid; "Hitting on all the ladies with beer in hand and in the
most blatant of ways."
She probably seethed in resentment against the bearded male
warriors, their 'cave man' attitudes towards women and same sex
couples, for instance.
Me and the Fag-Hag were on the patio outside our favourite occult
bookstore and having a smoke. I never noticed Dale being there, but
he must have also noticed the pretty teen-age macho boys.
"Those foxy looking outlaws really need to meet new boys." He
flashes the Fag-Hag this winning smile. A former geekboy from
Nebraska, Dale Flynn did a lot of heavy lifting, as a kid growing up
on a farm.
A well sculpted handsome muscular youth, Dale drifted into our town
when he decided to come out proud and gay. For some reason, the Fag-
Hag decided to take him under her wing and find him a job.
"Dale picks up on a lot of things." She positively cackled to me
about the guy a few times. A righteous vegan newcomer, the young buck
became a strict vegetarian with that convert's zeal.
"He's really willing to learn new things." The Fag-Hag made comment
to me about him once, about this harsh but handsome new-age muscle
fag. She calls him 'Teen-age Moses''.
Everybody in this town calls him 'Teen-age Moses' now, his co-
workers at this warehouse that distributes vegan foods, patrons of
our favourite occult bookstore and new-age party people.
Because of this light patch of beard across his handsome male jaw,
kind of like a teen-age Moses in one of those lame, biblical type of
Hollywood movies.
"Those bearded old biker hoodlums - I'm almost JEALOUS OF THEM!"
'Teen Moses' makes cheerful comment to me and the Fag-Hag directly.
"Because they have such pretty male mascots.!"
"Our pretty male outlaws DO have unworthy companions." The Fag-Hag
agrees. "On some level, they really do fancy other boys - But they're
too sexually repressed to ever act on it."
"And the lovely little blond haired one." 'Teen Moses' quizzes me
about the guy directly: "The one they call Goldilocks, what kind of a
name for a straight up guy is that?"
"His real name is Gordy Locke." I tell 'Teen Moses': "So the other
guys call him Goldilocks."
"Goldilocks shouldn't be hanging out with those older criminals."
The Fag-Hag comments icily.
"Donny's been TOO BUSY to play with the criminal crowd." 'Teen
Moses' makes this private chuckle, mostly to the Fag-Hag. "At least
'till be heard about the Virgins - and the keg party!"
"Donny promised Bruno he'd quit getting stoned and everything."
'Teen Moses' laughs to me as juicy gossip.
"He promised Bruno he'd quit the motorcycle gang too, last week-end
when they went out, in fact."
I laughed because the pretty dark haired youth was just heard
talking about a party, right? But I wasn't too sure about the
connection between Donny and Bruno.
Bruno was the openly gay brother of Claire, the Fag-Hag's younger
understudy, in this coven of local witches. 'Teen Moses' and Bruno
lived in the 'clubhouse', this annex building and gym, besides this
mansion in the far suburbs.
"Donny's been wearing pantyhose underneath his black leather jeans."
The Fag-Hag wickedly cackles to me in report: "Him and Bruno were
becoming an item, spending their weekend in the clubhouse last week."
"It's supposed to be a secret." 'Teen Moses' warns me, then adds:
"And now Bruno's secret little panty waist is doing WORSE than just
drinking with other boys - he wants in on their virgin sacrifices
too!"
"Virgins, eh?" The Fag-Hag says to herself mostly annoyed. "It IS a
sacrifice in a way, isn't it? ... That's where I draw the line!"
The Fag-Hag gets like that sometimes, crazy. She'll have a few
drinks and often mumble something about the 'olden days', and NOT
when she was a little girl either. Past lives, she meant.
All her important friends (and enemies!) have crossed paths with her
BEFORE - as in a PAST LIFE. The motorcycle hoodlums of today were
just another version of the (dreadful) male warriors as in days of
yore.
And this line had just been crossed, according to the Fag-Hag:
merely because 'Teen Moses' put the words 'virgin' and 'sacrifice' in
the same sentence, crazy.
"Bruno's ability to impact his secret little lover boy disappoints
me." The Fag-Hag lamented to 'Teen Moses' sadly.
"Bruno must have been the first." I blurted out to say. "The first
openly gay dude Donny ever bothered to talk to - let alone fuck!" I
really suspected a spell, but didn't want to confront the witchy old
lady about it yet.
"Those two?" The Fag-Hag makes cheerful comment to me in remark:
"Donny and Bruno were always exchanging those naughty glances. All I
ever did was break a little macho ice, that's all." She explains as
if speaking about the weather.
"And Goldilocks checks out other boys too." 'Teen Moses' chimes in
to add: "We always see him wagging the buns in those sexy-tight
leather jeans. He seems to enjoy doing it more when some of us gay
muscle jocks are able to see too, I believe."
This nineteen-year old buff, and handsome muscle fag wonders aloud:
"I'd LOVE to take him somewhere - and PULL OFF his sexy tight leather
pants. The gym or besides a swimming pool, perhaps, I'll bet my
flirty gay virgin has a really hot pansy tail!"
"You want him BAD!" The Fag-Hag wickedly cackles to interrupt his
train of thought. It was right about then I noticed her doing it.
Looking 'Teen Moses' up and down as if in appraisal.
"On some level, pretty punk Goldilocks must really like you." She
tells this handsome, openly gay muscle jock directly. He smirks to
her knowingly and I understood what she meant.
Sometimes, those two would exchange those naughty kinds of glances,
come to think about it. Just like Donny and Bruno did before too, I
thought it was just drunken, teen male antics at the time.
Leather-clad but lovely, little male tarts from out of the macho
pack, making furtive eye-contact with two wickedly endowed, strong-
arm handsome muscle fags.
"Yes, of course." The Fag-Hag appeared to cackle more in reasoning.
"Our pretty little Romeos have checked out the girls before, and
sometimes they got lucky."
"Yea!" I beaked off to the Fag-Hag. She complained to me about it
often enough. "You don't like the lovely male outlaws because - they
like to invade your beloved, new-age party scenes in order to meet
the girls and get laid!"
"And we also notice they check out other guys." The Fag-Hag replies
to me as if speaking to a small child. "A much better class of
buddies - than those drunken, older goons they party with now."
She begins to cackle more in reasoning: "So, our pretty male rascals
must be coming sexually aware - of ALL the foxy looking boys in our
dating pool!"
She looks 'Teen Moses' up and down as if sizing him up again and
adds: "I'm sure a much stronger, in control kind of boyfriend for
those two would be in order. "
"Bruno needs to pick up the ball." The handsome gay confident 'Teen
Moses' agrees. "To make sure his secret little pantyboy, Donny,
doesn't get that sexually frustrated. And Goldilocks DOES need to see
other boys!"
"In pantyhose, of course!" The Fag-Hag positively cackled in twisted
cheer. "Just like his pretty little buddy, Donny. Luckily for them,
there's always a SPELL for THAT. Their skirt-chasing days are so
over!"
I shuddered, but the Fag-Hag was the twisted sister who first
imagined true romance, or (at least) a wild sexual undercurrent.
More than enough to float a spell................................
To be continued...................
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