As a reader, you will have to forgive one major part of my storytelling. I am writing about a journey that I am still apart of, I am writing about moments that had no meaning at the time, I am writing about things I cannot understand.
It was the New Year’s Eve just before my 19th birthday. I came home from university and found myself getting wrecked with all my boys at a party. I stood out like a sour thumb with these gentleman as they went on and on about hockey and lacrosse. At 6’4” and a football players 250lbs build, this black boy was not as popular as he should be with the women there. These women were more vanilla than the men. Yet I say there, feign amusement.
As I drank and got high, sex filled my late teenage brain. Each puff, each refill had my balls heavier and heavier. I missed the countdown to 2011, because I was too busy talking myself into how I’ll procure some puss. But I knew I had failed when I ordered the cab home.
Cock stiff, I looked out the taxi door. Still scheming to how I will get assistance unloading these bull nuts.