Ever since I decided that I would commit myself to this "alternative lifestyle" three years ago, it was always a must to get down with the most thugged out brotha that I could find. I had met some cool peeps in my day, but there was always that fantasy of having what I knew damn well I could never have. I wanted a nigga that fit my impression of what a thug-nigga should be: a dark, chocolate brotha that melted in my mouth, not in my hands, with a lean an
d cut physique: a washboard stomach, arms big as trees, an ass firm and muscular, hands that were rough and sensual, tattoos galore, and a rod that was big enough to electrify the insides of my body; if he was a smoker and/or a drinker, it was cool with me, but he had to possess at least half of these qualities. All I wanted was a roughneck who wore baggy clothes and Timbs to hide what I really wanted.
That thugged-out rough neck was Deandre.
I was never the "fem" type, but more of a reserved and attractive 25 year old business-type man looking for someone just as attractive as I was, but not as stuffy and proper. I always met the wrong people, with a couple of exceptions, but for the most part, I could never meet Mr. Right. Sur
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