Blow'n My Own Horn!

Normally, I try not to blow my own horn too terribly often, as it does put a horrible crick in my neck.  But, once I get all wrapped up like a pretzel and start slopp'n on my head...no FUCKING way am I stopp'n, 'till my dick starts to sputter and spew, coating my lips, tongue and tonsils with my sweet, succulent goo.

So, anyway, this past weekend a friend of mine, who is a tennis pro at a local  club, put on a charity event to raise money for a summer tennis program he puts on for low income kids.  As most years, I always try to put my hat in the ring, showing support and doing what I can to help him out, as I really love what he does with kids.  He's not just teaching kids how to play tennis, but teaching them fitness, discipline, character, sportsmanship; on and on and on... Normally, I place fairly high, but usually, at some point, crash and burn into flames somewhere along the way to the finals.  This year, however, I've just been on such a positive high, and having really put a lot of work both in the gym for stamina and fitness, but also playing a bunch of tennis in the evenings after work, or, when time permits, on the weekends, that I actually found myself, Sunday afternoon, playing in both the men's singles final and the men's doubles final.   

In both cases, I found myself looking across the court at a guy that really burns me up inside.  I can deal with cocky and showmanship, but this guy is just mean, plain and simple, oh, and he hates "fags".  


What's sad to me, is he's a really, REALLY, good looking guy, but such a bad personality, I'd rather fuck a gas can than be caught dead filling up his nasty ol' tank.  


So, anyway, I'm in the singles final by mid-day, and, feeling no pain, I rip right through his gnarly ass, never looking back and pure joy running through my veins, as my gay, rhyming ass takes his straightness in two straight sets.  


The doubles final was a little more tricky, I picked up Mark as my partner, not because of his tennis talent, as there are better players out there that I know, but nobody I know makes bigger shots with nerves of steel, quite like my Superman.  Plus, tennis is more about team, and moving and playing together, than just raw talent, and nobody moves together as one better than Mark and I.  As I said, we were in the finals, but quickly down 4 games to 1, in the first set.  I couldn't stand myself...I was soooo mad.  Mark takes me aside, as we switch ends, and asks me, "You really want to beat this jerk, don't you."  

In a whisper, "FUCK YA!  He called me a fag the other day, and you know that makes me nuts!"


Mark, all nonchalant and macho just shrugs his shoulders, "Ok, lets get 'em."


Mark's serving...First one's hits the line in and swings out wide; ACE.  Second one, to the add court, right down the "T"; ACE.  Third serve, back to my favorite friend, another serve out wide.  This time he gets the ball back, but right into my waiting volley and body shot right back at his seething prick self.  (do I sound vindictive?)  So, it's 40-0, and back to the add court.  The serve is hard, low and flat, right at his body; GAME OVER.  


We took the momentum from that game, basically down and out, won the first set 7-5, lost the second set 4-6, but cruised through the third, and final set, for a hard fought victory!  


Later, during the little awards get together at the end of the festivities, my friend called out the mens doubles champs; "Rafael DeAngelo and Markus ...," I was filled with so much pride, I could barely stand myself.  As you guys can probably tell, I can be a bit high strung, yet Mark can, with such ease, calm me down and get me so focused, no one can put me down.  No one, can ever defeat us; together, SKIES aren't even the limit!


Later, at home, Mark re-played that hard, low and flat serve right into MY body; past my sphincter and deep into my hot, seething core! 


Aaah, the sweet spoils of victory...