Date: Tue, 1 Sep 2015 21:36:42 +0000 (UTC)
From: Beaumonte Bill <oral_guy_2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pervert Phil Part 28

Pervert Phil (part 28)

This story traces the life of Phil, now deceased.  His life was filled with
perversion, which he enjoyed tremendously and freely shared with me.  This
series contains content that some will find offensive, so you may wish to
skip some parts.  Phil took many risks, and was fortunate to survive his
many encounters.  I hope you enjoy the story, but caution you not to follow
his example!

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I spent the next couple of days in an odd introspective sort of mood;
missing being sore from a beating more than anything, I suppose.  I knew
that it was really sort of sick but I didn't care.  I had taken to getting
checked for HIV a couple of years prior to that point so I knew I was still
`clean' in spite of my best efforts to fuck every guy who crossed my path
and looked even mildly interested.  I had to admit that I was a little
disappointed by that but I figured that eventually I'd get `tagged' by
somebody.  I didn't know at that point that it was virtually impossible to
get AIDS by sucking cock, that you had to get an ass full of positive semen
to get it and I didn't get it in the ass often enough to get `pos.'

What I did know was that the more `out' I became the better I liked it,
especially since most people considered homosexuals to be filthy scum.  I
needed that, reveled in it, always wanted more of it.  Men who came to my
apartment to use me were usually surprised to see that I lived in such
`genteel' surroundings but I think that made my submissiveness even more
erotic for them.  I even considered arranging to get arrested for public
lewdness which would get my name on the `sex offenders' list; the notoriety
of being on a list that anybody could see showing that I was a homosexual
who liked doing fag stuff in public would have been quite wonderful but the
negatives outweighed the positives and wandering around looking for a new
place to live and a new job to work at were simply more than I wanted to
undertake.

Finally, after several days of growing increasingly horny for a good
raping/beating, I put on the new shoes again and went downtown.  The same
new black guy was standing there and I sidled up to him and said that I'd
lied when I talked to him before; that I really was the fag that the other
guy got his shoes from and asked if he liked the ones I was wearing.  He
said he liked them just fine and I asked him if he knew how the other guy
got them.  `Yeah I do, faggot.'  I just started walking toward the parking
structure and I heard him following me.  I had to hold the door open on the
elevator so he could ride up to the roof with me.  All I said to him was
`Please don't kill me, Mr. Nigger Sir.'  He didn't say anything.  My using
the `N' word made him mad which guaranteed that I'd get beaten up bad.  I'd
left all my ID in the car but my wallet had a brand new shiny $100 bill in
it and I was wearing all brand new clothes and shoes.  I hid a key to my
car in the elevator's handrail thing.  I assumed he'd steal everything and
I was right.  The sun was almost up when I finally woke up naked on that
rooftop.  After I puked, I felt to see if I still had my balls because he'd
been waving a knife around some while he fucked me in the ass for the third
time that night.  I still had my balls but they, like every other part of
my body, were sore beyond belief!  I remembered him twisting them hard just
before the world went away.

I remember thinking `this shit's gonna get me killed one of these days' as
I walked to the elevator and went to my car.  Even that wasn't enough to
deter me from seeking out guys who would beat and degrade and rape me.  I
admit that I much prefer to have sadistic women do the beating part but the
degradation and raping parts are exclusively male.

Granted, Eva was very good at treating me sadistically but she was almost
25 miles away and we had diminished our play considerably; I needed to find
a local woman who enjoyed torturing fags.  Since the little leather shop
had filled so many needs in my fag world, I started there by looking at
their bulletin board which contained cards and clip-coupons and 8x10
intensely-colored ads for almost anything erotic that one cared to find or
scream out to the straight world outside the door.  I found nothing that
even remotely resembled what I was seeking.

Having exhausted the bulletin board's wide but unsatisfactory appeals, I
asked the very formal lady behind the counter if there were any blank index
cards handy upon which I could print a message.  She found a blank 3x5 card
and handed it to me and went off to attend to other business.  What I
eventually put on the card was just about as blatant as I could make it.
It said I was homosexual but that I needed to submit to a woman who enjoyed
torturing faggots.  My phone number and name finished the brief
description.

I asked the woman behind the counter if I could put my own card on the
board and she said she had to look at it first.  I handed it over and she
very carefully read it.  She looked me up and down before slipping the card
into her skirt pocket.  `Will you be at this number tonight around 8
o'clock?'  I said that I would and she asked if I would be available that
night for an `interview'.  Again, I said that I would.  She glanced at my
crotch which was clearly showing the outline of my erection.  `That looks
very promising, fairy-boy.  I'll be checking that out tonight too!  You
better like pain because I am really into watching fags in pain.'  I
stammered out a thank you and would have said more except that she had
moved on to a customer who wanted to purchase something.  Eight o'clock
rolled around with me practically sitting on top of my phone waiting for it
to ring.  It did.

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To be continued ...

Feel free to contact me with your comments or requests.  烹ill
(oral_guy_2000@yahoo.com)

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