I DECLARE THE GUILTY PARTY INNOCENT



You know those big-eyed lads?
Big hands, big jaws, big shoulders, big eyes.
Most with hard leather shoes
Scuffed from kicking gutters and piles of concrete
Ignoble, angry, pleasant and confused
Cigarette between big tender lips
Those that have been passed down
From the peasants of the middle ages
Just enough stubble on their dimpled chins
And just enough wiry hair on their broad chests
These rough trade lads
In love with their mothers
In fear of their fathers
Sleepy sweaty cocks
Nestled in innocent briefs
And big arses that are held steady
By thighs that were formed
In high school football teams
And fondled by teachers
And cheerleaders
And friends of their sisters
And whores
And men in public toilets
And all the while
Nothing would pass through these lad’s minds
But the pleasant feelings
They feel when with clean briefs and shorts
Resting around ankles atop scuffed boots
And the hand
Goes from beefy thigh
To awaken the lad’s sleepy, tender cock

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