If I feel your hand on my ass, bro one more goddamn time I’m going to lose my shit That may be how they do things in prison but I’m a little boy from the suburbs and I feel I need to tell you I like my sweet lovin’ with a little less five o'clock shadow Now don’t get me wrong When you tell me, “You got one sexy ass, boy,” it’s flattering as hell My self esteem’s at an all time low and I can use all the compliments I can get The problem as I see it is that you’re so fucking tall and you’ve got it firmly in your head that I’m more than a pretty painting to be admired from afar I’m your plaything which might not be so daunting if it wasn’t so apparent that you liked your play very rough, indeed Now they told me when I came here that I would learn new things Though I never expected my horizons to be broadened in such an indelicate fashion it’s not that you’re a man it’s just that freakaphilia has never been my style
Max Mundan, Rehab Stories: Rough Trade in the Kitchen
© Max Mundan 2015
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