Tag: male nude

Tight little island full of gay romance.
They wear gay sandals and they wear tight pants.
Sun-drenched top to bottom every day,
And they're blessed with the miracle of being gay!

The very best of faggots in the U.S.A. giving big, big pleasure in a big, big way!

I'm just a straight in a gay, gay, gay world
I'm carryin' the banner tryin' to keep the flag unfurled
Well I'm just a straight in a gay, gay, gay place
I might look a little odd but I'm part of the human race

Well I'm just a straight in a gay, gay, gay world
Might look a little butch but my hair is naturally curled
Don't wear no floral shirts or white, buckled shoes
No blow jobs or blow waves, I do just what I choose

And if I'm forty-seven and I've never been married
That's just a load that's gotta be carried
Even if I had my eyebrows plucked
That don't mean I'm hangin' round just to get
Just 'cos he's happy don't mean that he's gay
All his friends seem to take him quite the wrong way
There ain't many of us still left alive
All my friends have gone over to the other side

I'm just a straight in a gay, gay, gay world
I'm carryin' the banner tryin' to keep the flag unfurled
Well I'm just a straight in a gay, gay, gay time
And a straight in a gay world is getting hard to find

Said a movie buff, “Oater’s wild actions,                                                              Will appeal to a broad range of factions,                                                                               Twas my fate to be born,                                                                                         Quite addicted to porn,                                                                            So I’ll settle for Coming Attractions.”

Ecce homo, the search is Quixotic,                                                                    For a wardrobe not too idiotic,                                                                                      So I’ll shop L.L. Bean,                                                                                              Like a butch rural queen,                                                                        Buying clothes that are faintly erotic.

In a contest devoted to testes,                                                                               A Roman, hands down, had the besties,                                                                            With his clamorous dong                                                                                          He would belt out a song,                                                                            From a polka to a holy Adestes.

The Wall Street “Y”s chock fulla fellas,                                                                    A melange of browns, pinks and yellas,                                                                           In the shower you’ll see                                                                                           Every size and degree                                                                                  Of buyas and tradas and sellas.

Young Joe, while commiting no crimes,                                                            Lent a hand helping Tom ring his chimes,                                                                       What Tom then requested                                                                                       Joe gagged on—detested—                                                                          At least the first twenty‐five times.

A man known as Masochist Mitch,                                                                      On looking, soon found the right niche,                                                                                   When wacked on the bean,                                                                                     He’d cook and he’d clean,                                                                   For some dominant son of a bitch.

A certified expert in math,                                                                                      At the baths said, “I’m here for a laugh,                                                                                So don’t get upset                                                                                                    When the number you get,                                                                      Is a mere sixty‐eight and a half.”

Behold those vulgarian Borgias,                                                                                                   Amid all those dead Georgios and Georgias,                                                         Their robes disarrayed,                                                                They incestuously splayed                                                                                       Their legs, in high Renaissance orgias.