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June 4th, 1973
the real, fundamental, final guilt is that I should be masculine and never ever can be.
I have been in love with tough young men all my life. Jeans stretched across a tight ass. Low slung Levi’s– tight across the thighs with that basket of dark, hairy, curled up dick and balls. I love to rub my face into sex/smell cocks– holding powerful muscular legs– to have some sweating groaning man– tongue stuck into my mouth– pumping fucking dry humping a stiff hard dick against my leg as his hand finds and rubs my asshole– probing– suddenly a finger is in hot moist– a deep raspy voice groans into my ear– oh baby– oh baby baby baby.
I really despise myself for being gay.