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89 Dear Rodney   This summer promises to be our most adventurous. My available sister of sin, Leo, and I will be away just about every weekend and even had to pencil in our movie schedules. God forbid I actually start seriously dating anyone. They’ll only get dinner, rentals, and walks in the park from me—at least until the fall. And we all know how cold it gets in New York during the winter. I have met someone who lives just a few blocks away. It’s much sweeter than phone conversations with guys who live in Kentucky. It will be nice to ask questions like “Would you like to meet up for lunch or a stroll in the neighborhood?” rather than “What’s the weather like down there?” However, we did meet on Adam4Adam.com, and he lured me with his cock pic. At least I know we are sexually compatible and I know he is also a Madonna fan from the framed photographs throughout his apartment. He also happens to be a yoga instructor. This is definitely one of the pros of gentrification. I used to have to travel into the city to meet hotties like this. Of course, there was the tall blond who was into a lot of foreplay and the whole daddy-son role-playing. He really enjoyed spanking me and cuddling. He also asked a lot of questions about my first time. It was only weird when he asked me to imagine myself as a ten-year-old boy. Then it got a little creepy and I told him I had to be up early the next morning for school. He finally got his dick in me, molested me or 90 whatever, and I got him to leave. In the end, it was kind of hot. However , I think I scared him off afterward. When he asked me, “Do you know what bad boys get?” I looked at him blankly. He then proceeded to spank me on the ass really hard. I then asked, “Do you know what bad daddies get?” He pondered the question for a minute before I answered it for him: “Five to ten years!” The next day, I found out my ex-boyfriend, a police sergeant, was arrested for allegedly having sex with a now-twelve-year-old boy over the course of five years. His arrest happened after we broke up so I suppose now I know why it didn’t work out between us. The whole time we were dating, I was thinking that as a police officer he couldn’t imagine being seriously involved with a former drug dealer and hustler. Turns out it was because he may have been a pedophile. So we went back to Hillside Campgrounds for Memorial Day weekend. As the person who introduced us to camping, you were totally missed. Everyone asked about you, to which we replied, “He’s away with family this weekend.” The usual hedonism of men and alcohol ensued. Leo blacked out and doesn’t remember how we almost got eighty-sixed from the campgrounds after he decided to whip out his dick and get a blow job in the middle of the strip by some guy worth completely forgetting. The next evening, we crashed Cumalot’s “Rocky Horror Picture Show” party by showing up with hoodies and pretending we ended up at the wrong party. When asked, our response was cued as, “I thought this was the ‘Rocky’ party!” I went as “El Rocky,” Leo went as “Rocky Road,” and we christened Mark “Rocky Feather-boa.” We were a subtle hit among all the sweet transvestites and got drinks poured into our mouths, as we couldn’t hold any cups with those giant boxing gloves. My package was quite revealing in those boxing shorts and, as expected, I got so laid. After kicking Doug (or whatever his name was) out of my tent, that’s when the revelry truly began. I ventured back to Rec Hall by the bonfire to meet up with the other Rockys, only to get totally trashed and taken advantage of by a guy you messed around with and envisioned a life together with before finally meeting Dave and settling down for a while. Okay, so I was an easy target after several rounds of Peach Schnapps (aka the devil’s nectar) offered by some short daddy trying to lure us back to his hotel about half an...

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