Abyss Boy

Abyss Boy

            “Abyss” was tattooed across the go-go boy’s belly.  Dancing on a block, he squat down to receive my dollar.

            “Hey there,” he whispered in my ear.  My hands rest on his substantial, hairy thighs.

            “I love your tattoos.”

            “Why thank you.”

            “So does Abyss mean you’re a bottom?”

            “No, it means I’m missing something inside.  But I’m finding it through the power of prayer.”

            “Oh. I’m glad you’re filling it.”  I slipped the dollar bill into his jockstrap fondling his balls.

            “That’s not ball sweat, just oil.”