This tweet marks a year to the day i made out with a twink who thought i was a butch

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The fly house. It was a beautiful two-story house built on a farm that was once the livelihood for my great aunt and uncle, but had since been abandoned. We called this house the fly house, because when we moved into the house it was completely covered in thousands of dead flies. There were dead flies on the counters, dead flies in the bathtub and dead flies on the windowsills. The flies must have bred during the previous summer and died the winter that we moved in. We spent weeks cleaning this house, which soon became the backdrop for a very brief portion of my childhood. During the fly house years my dad was just beginning to get used to his bachelor life-style.

If you're familiar with the characters then sit back, pull out your piece, start jerking off and enjoy the story! What happened last time: Darien and Matt had a threesome with Matt's old friend Dan, who is a cop working in Zagreb. Dan invited them to the capitol to demonstrate his 'modus operandi'… Sunday afternoon, we're doing mph on the highway, heading west towards the capitol and having a great time. It's warm and sunny, good luck that Dan's car has air-conditioning.

Illustration by Kelsey Wroten. My twink gay boy peak was that summer between junior and senior year I spent in London on a literature research grant. In practice, this meant spending a couple hours a day at the British Library, then going cruising for guys around Old Compton Street, at clubs like G. It was the 90s and England hadn't yet discovered the gym, so my ectomorph muscles from my college free weight and sit-up routine stood out, and people mistook my American confidence for "masc," or, as we called it in those olden days, butch. I encountered stares and smiles everywhere I went, as if crossing the pond turned me into a whole new kind of man altogether, someone who didn't turn guys off because I was too slim and fey.