Jan. 22nd, 2004

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I'm on the phone, just out of Midland, Texas, when you step out of your truck and walk toward me. Big, handsome Texan; graying beard, flinty blue gaze. You catch my eyes directly and rub your crotch as you pass. That's my cue.

In the restroom stall, I drop to one knee. You're already hard. I take your big fat uncut Texan dick in my mouth, and you exhale hoarsely. You scratch my beard with your blunt fingernails, and then, with two fingers, you lift my chin away from you. You knock back your cowboy hat, and put your mouth over mine. You like the way you smell on me. I reach up, spreading my hands across the coarse hair on your chest. Your tongue, suddenly deep. When we finish kissing, I resume my business below. You rub the side of my neck, and then, as your hand slips under my collar and your rough palm strokes my back, you lean down and I learn, deep in the heart, what scares you most.

"I ain't gay," you whisper. "Yeah babe, I ain't no fag."

Later, as you blow me in the back of my truck, I think, "The stars, at night, are big and bright... "

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