Date: Mon, 07 Feb 2005 18:39:15 +0000
From: alfredo garcia <alfredo247@hotmail.com>
Subject: Confessiones

Afternoon cold of autumn. The scent of the wet earth brings to my memory
old images. Me adolescent, looking through a window, the wind moving the
trees. Two hands slipping inside of my shirt, ascending from my waist,...
I had closed eyes, the tip of their fingers in the tip of my nipples. I
open the eyes, it begins to rain, behind me, my friend X caresses me....
Him, Z, the man of the warehouse, lowers my pants, his penis of white
marble... I want to sleep but my friend nibbles my neck... The dark,
beautiful and sad eyes of Y, they beg my rendition. I can hardly resist,
his hands on my body. I let that his lips caress my legs, I open them, I
want to like him. His desire adulate me... The great white penis of Z,
with glass drops in the tip... I remember a spring morning with X, in the
forest, with snow, I undressed for him, where the pretext? To take a bath
in the snow? Alone in night, in the cold room, I want to be with him... Z
sat down in a sofa of the warehouse of furniture his lowered pants, the
white legs, the great penis erect, he lowers my pants, me a boy then,
sits down on his lap.  He interrogates me on the causes of my small erect
penis, I don't remember nothing else... This afternoon has finished the
storm, the sea blue and calm. Again X near here, in a beach, at  20 I
read Leaves of Grass of Walt Withman and he didn't feel the same thing
that I felt... .Now him made love to me and he told me that him is
happier than with his wife. I had 12, Y 15, I was already almost an
adolescent, the he was a man, in his passion, in his desire. His weight
flattened me, his hands on my body. His sensual mouth kissing me, like to
a girlfriend, and I refuse and at the same time I permit him, happy of
his desire for me. I become toward Z and I kiss him in the mouth, his
penis grows between my trembling legs. He promises me walks in his
motorcycle, a wooden machine gun, and a ship scale model that he is
building. I allow myself to him. The white milk of his penis on my small
white hand... In a bed of wool mattress, over a forge. Or in the rustic
inn, with X, always with X, my obsession, my great love of then, and he
did not know that and when he knew it, he scare, and he leave me drowning
in the marshes of the disaffection .... Y introduce me his tongue in the
ass, Y make love to me with his lips, with his tongue, with his fingers,
I dream with his penis inside me, while his deep look penetrates me...
Where those paradises, where I shipwreck the love?... I was also happy
with some girls, do I also want others that I had never got, for example
the litle W, with which I have had intense histories of love in my
imagination. So it is not what I had what I miss but what the destination
deprives me and that I will never be able to have... I lick the white and
beautiful penis of Z, his semen flows endless, I am not able to swallow
everything, and it slides on my throat, my chest, my legs, my small sex
erect... Paris, two youths run joking for the Champs Eliseos, at night
they will sleep together on the white bed, in the room papered in
flowers, but the love passed long, and the world will have lost some
unique instants of happiness and unrecoverable whose beauty for it alone
would justify the existence of the universe... In the room of the old
hostel of London I dream that X makes me  love, he speaks to me sweetly
to the hearing, his legs crisscross mine, our sexes beating together,
...Never had Z inside me. I sorry for him and for me. But the image of a
young man and an adolescent making love, in front of the mirror of a
closet in the warehouse of furniture, it still moves my soul... Today
this melancholic afternoon, the leaves of the trees becoming agitated, in
front of the sea, at the end of my life... Also a night of the end of the
summer, two young friends, tired of the long trip, nudes on the white
savannas of the distant highway hotel, the wet hair of the recent shower,
the eyes opened up in the dimness, and one of them at least, longing,
erect penis, in love soul, unable to beg his friend's love, believing to
hear a voice that mumbled in the darkness his name. The call didn't
repeat, if it is that it happened. There another time the world became
less beautiful.

Oh my God!, the passions of my past that seemed out during some time, are
revived now, exactly now that begins the declines of my life. But
stronger that never his fire is about to consume my life. Every day at
every hour passes for my mind the white images. So only they seem to go
away when I obsess me with works, in a problem, or when I dive in the
alcohol, but even then are being about always around my soul, awaiting
falling on me, and to torment me with their diabolical and wonderful
images.


Has anybody feel similiar? Please write to me. Alfredo