In order to find a Prince Charming you have to be a Prince Charming yourself.
Posted by Kevin Hunter
In order to find a Prince Charming you have to be a Prince Charming yourself. This goes for women as well looking for their Prince Charming. They don’t necessarily have to be a Princess Charming, but be the perfect girl. Perfection can never be attained, but when you’re thriving for it and giving that vibe off you come pretty damn close.
Jagger sat up on his beach chair on his balcony under the hard beating sun with a good book and his notepad in case any good ideas came to mind. He had his shirt off and shorts on. The energy is intoxicating around him. Swarms of beach crowds pull up on the street fighting over the little remaining parking spots available. He sat in the sun for so long that the little hairs on his arm began to go from brown to blonde and sparkled when it hit the sun at the right angle.
He sat up straight and tried to remain calm as he saw Garth coming around the bend. Jagger thought to himself, ‘Be cool. Don’t let it to get you.’ Garth was moving in on him closer without a shirt. His skin glistened with light beads of sweat under the sun. Jagger eyed the tattoo around his upper armband. It was a small Maori design. The Maori words or images symbolize a warrior, a place that Jagger is most at home with. He doesn’t want to stare at him for too long because he might be caught looking. He imagines gliding his tongue across his tattoo keeping himself from faint as he studies his body. The tones forming his structure are in all the right places. The Coppertone boy one shade after white, but now the only part of his body that is his natural skin tone of white is his ass and frontal region. It’s the rare section of his body that doesn’t get to see any sun long enough to tan. He wanted to yank his shorts off, throw him on the floor, and make love to him on the sidewalk.
He jotted scribbling notes down in his pad, ‘the guy who I think hates me is in love with me. I am love’s fucking hell. If a guy is into you and he’s shy, he is probably more likely to approach you and start up a conversation if he’s seen you around a lot.’
A girl wearing a bikini top and biking shorts walked briskly with her headphones on smiling at Garth. It screamed sex.
Jagger watched him go down to the beach to his lifeguard tower. He closed his eyes in the sun pictured putting his arms around him. He wanted to take every inch of him in, feel his breath on his skin. He knows he’s lucky when he gets to see him for a few seconds, because that’s a few-seconds that turn his day that was once upside down into something completely right. He no longer inhabits his body. He soars above it. He feels incredible strength when he crosses his path. His eyes make his soul tremble with love. Before he knew his name he had to find out what it was so he could at least know whose name to call out when he ejaculated. He can separate sex from love. When he’s in love with someone he doesn’t want to have sex with them right away. He wants to be with them, get to know them and have the most amazing love making and end it with some hard fucking. He offends some people by using rough language and talking about sex. What he especially wants is love. He wants to hold someone in the end. He knows not to give up on the idea of Garth. If it’s out there enough, maybe it’ll come true. Never give up and never throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Troy sat up on the ledge of the balcony breaking Jagger’s fantasy focus. “So, Evan just sent me a text, that guy that I went out with the other day. It says, ‘Hi, what are you up to?’ What should I say?”
Jagger gave Troy a look like come on, “Uhhh-‘What are you wearing?’”
Troy typed it in and sent it. “I didn’t tell you we had phone sex the other night.”
His phone beeps with a text. He looks down to read it. “Oh!” He laughs, “Now he goes, ‘boxers, why?’ How should I respond to that?”
“He responded fast. That dude is horny.”
“Perfect! That’s what I’ll say.” He types it in.
Jagger goes back to his book.
“Ooo! He says, ‘you can have it. It’s all yours.’” He jumps down, “You know what I got to go. I’ll be back.” He runs off chuckling. Jagger knows where he was headed. He laughs silently to himself.
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© content copyright 2012. Kevin Hunter.
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Posted on February 1, 2012, in Dating (Social Customs), Dude Lit, Gay, Kevin Hunter Author Writer, Love and Relationships, Love/Sex/Marriage, Romance, Sex, Sexuality, Trashy Beach Reads and tagged beads of sweat, fucking hell, maori design, maori words, natural skin tone, rare section. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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