To the Artist's Page                  To our home page

To Shane Allison's previous piece     To Shane Allison's next piece

he stepped over me

after squeezing the last blobs of semen from the
piss slit of his dick,

after he pulled the rubber from his lubed cock
after he abandoned cum in the cracks of the

grout-stained floor
after spreading those elastic knees,

those stairmastered thighs beneath
a fiberglass stall. He begs for a blowjob

like a hooker in search of her heroin high.
Take it easy, I say. Slow down dude.

It was a penis of plumb-purpled veins.
Blood rushed to his only brain.

A leather cock-ring noosed around
balls and shaft.

He stepped over me as I sat bare assed with
my army-green Dockers down around my ankles.

Shirt up and bunched above belly button.
His fingers curled around my black cock.

He didn't wash his hands
or check his face for anything out of place.

He left me defenseless in a bathroom of putrid urinals
and cum that looked like cream of chicken soup.

He stepped over me without even so much as a thank you.
He treated my mouth like the back seat of a used car.

The door clicked shut behind him.
I jacked off alone thinking I could have stayed home
for this shit.

To the top of this page