Spring is here! My mantra of late has been "Look and don't touch." I find myself repeating this as I drive down the city streets and see *them*. Fountains without water have them. Parking lots of churches, fast food joints, and drug stores have them. Sidewalks have them. Alleyways have them. Mmm...alleyways.

I always get kind of angry when I see the police telling some guys to move along because they can't skate in a parking lot or something. It's a total power trip for cops to tell somebody they can't enjoy themselves. The police are never around when you need them most anyhow. If they aren't harassing some skaters I can bet you that you'll find them down at the gas station getting coffee and doughnuts. But then again, I'm a little bit pissed off at Officer Friendly right now. I recently got pulled over for speeding.

If I don't watch myself, I'm gonna wreck my car or get arrested.

Skaters. Not the fairy princess, Rudy Galindo! I'm talking scabby-kneed, bruised, banged up, baggy pants-wearing, four wheels and a board kind. The kind that spit. The kind you want to run up to and yank their baggy trousers down. The kind that give you funny looks for staring. The kind that sweat a whole lot. The kind that remove their shirts and have those tight, hard bodies...

You want me to stop?

Inline skating isn't the same. It's always looked like an updated version of 70's roller rink skating to me. Boys on a board, served up wet and fresh, and having a good time are the way to go.

I got a variety of types that really turn my head, none of which include any pathetic, Ambercrombie & Fitch soft core porn catalog images. As you've gathered, I like them rough and tumble, complete with underarm scent. Nasty, surly, mischievous, horny, dirty and scruffy are all adjectives that complete my sexual Mad Libs. Have you ever tasted skater punk ass? Well, man, you haven't lived yet, have you? As long as I have a face, they've got a place to sit! Sweaty, sweaty crack, as if they were baking it just for you, with your stiff tongue probing and poking his hot pink pucker! The only thing that will drown out his cries of "Deeper! Deeper!" and "Fuck me now!" is cranking up Bitchin' Camaro by the Dead Milk Men. Heh!

Seriously, I've only had two skaters. Okay, well, the one I'm going to talk about, I don't know if he was a skater or not, but I still pretend he was, and that's good enough for me. He sure looked like the guys in my neighborhood that I fantasize about. I'm not going to tell you about the other one because he was a bad lay and whined when I sucked his toes.

The youngest guy I've ever fucked was 18, I think. At least, that's what he told me, so who knows. I was horny, and I went to this arcade -- not the video game kind -- the dirty movie kind. I couldn't pass this kid up, especially with all the dirty old men around; this guy was a prize. I did the obligatory walk around, passed by him, nodded, and propped myself up against the wall. It didn't take long before the boy in the baggy jeans was in a booth and peeking out at me, beckoning me in. He fumbled for his wallet to get out a dollar for the movie, and I locked the door just in time -- the old men smelled young meat and were already trying the door.

"Hey." He had a low, meek voice. I could tell he was nervous. He had a beautiful face, buzzed blonde hair, and pouty dick-sucking lips. On his left bicep was some abstract design that looked like it was drawn by a 3rd grader.

I reached out and pressed my palms into his chest. He exhaled deeply, and I could smell Altoids on his breath. He reached for my belt buckle and unzipped my fly. Gave head like a pro for seeming so nervous. I grabbed at the sides of his head and fucked his mouth. I grunted and growled at him to suck my dick, and he seemed to eat this up. I liked the fact that a little manhandling got him hot. He undid his jeans and started beating it. I made him stand up and turn around; I wanted to eat him out.

Now, I always find it funny when you poke around down there a guy usually starts to beg for a ride. He kind of bucked and rode my face, which only got me hard as steel. After some deep thrusts with my tongue, he was telling me how much he needed it. I made no issue of it and busted out a condom while he fed another dollar into the machine. (Security comes around the arcade and demands that you feed another dollar into the movie machine or they make you get out, so you have to keep it running. They can be total pricks.)

I eased into his ass, and it was like wet velvet. I grabbed him firmly by the hips and pulled him onto my cock. He let out this low moan and I returned the sound and reflected back on him. I focused on his ass, blocking out the persistent rattling of the door. The world around me faded as my buddy pushed his butt back onto me. I love when guys do that! I'm a nice guy, so I did the old reach around and gave him some nice solid strokes -- he was dripping with precum. I was hitting all his buttons. I bit the back of his neck, and he let out this grunt. He liked that too, because his butthole clenched down on me. This got me right to the edge.

"Are you gonna cum?" He asked.

"Yeah!"

"Do it."

We chitchatted a little bit out in the dark hallway about what parts of town we lived in. He told me how old he was and that he wan't "out." I assured him that that is a personal choice and told him it was cool with me. I excused myself before he got all attached.

If I don't watch myself, I'm gonna get arrested.

I think the legal age is 16 in Kansas and 17 in Missouri. But for queers, it's illegal and considered sodomy to have same-sex sex at any age. It's penalized with six months in jail and $1000 fine in Kansas, and in Missouri, it's one year in jail and the fine is the same. I guess that makes me a sex offender in at least two states. I say, fuck that! As long as the guy is legal, he can take a spin on my Johnson if he wants to. I'm not going to stop him.