Kerouac and Casaday had stayed in this town, in the pages of _On the Road_, or at least a town like this. Tangier in the '40's had places like this...... **** Kiki, the small c***d of the family who owned the hotel, brought them a bottle of Mezcal, cooled by an inadequate refrigerator in the cantina downstairs. Already, the room had grown close with the smell of their bodies, and the two looked at him with eyes of a color never seen in this village. The color. It was amazing how such a skinny boy could be blessed with such a huge cock. It must have represented over half his body weight. I sat next to him, caressed his balls and rubbed his cock, running my fingers over the head. He groaned. He was loving it. I watched his face. It was beautiful, very effeminate. If you dressed him in women’s clothing, he’d have fooled any homophobe. “Take me in your mouth,” he purred. I got on my knees between his legs and took his cock in my hand and wrapped. More

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