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He paid the cabby and we went up to his flat, which wasn’t shabby at all and convinced me he was a well-paid professional.

He told me to take off my clothes as he went to get us some beers, and excused himself to take care of a few quick and immediate matters.

I swear he was growling in a low bass pitch the whole time, like an animal.

I imagine we scared the crap out of the cab driver.

Now, normally I pick up a man based on what I feel like doing sexually on that occasion.

If I want to get fucked, I look for a burly masculine man who can’t take his eyes off all the ass that walks by.

I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle and the animals, and even had some help in the lessons of life from the farmhands.

Other boys were experimenting openly with the farm girls or at least boasting about it. It wasn’t until I moved to the city to go to college that I began to explore what feel I had always known. In no time I was putting my legs in the air for another frat, fucking anonymous pickups from seedy downtown bars, and generally having a great time; discovering all those years of pent-up sexual frustration made me one great poke in my post-adolescence.

Well, it wasn’t too long (my second year of college) before I began to seek out more than just the vanilla partners I had screwed around with.

I was so far removed from being the simple farm boy who had moved to the city scarcely less than two years before as to be considered ‘worldly’ by the standards of most of the men I enjoyed the company of.

However, there was still one taboo I had not broken, although I didn’t even realize it at the time, and in the way one peels away the many layers of an onion to get closer to the rich core, I realized that there were parts of my sexuality that I still had not come to terms with.

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