"You like it rough, don't you, man?""Yeah...I want it rough...all of it."

SMACK!*****

I was in some motel near LAX. I had picked up a local gay magazine and called a hustler. His picture looked hot, very hot. He was small and professed to be well-endowed.

He had told the truth. I wanted a kid, or rather a guy in his twenties, that looked under eighteen. I wanted a top. I felt like a bottom today, I felt like not making any decisions -- beyond getting a room at the hotel, laying the bathtub, and ordering some whiskey.

I didn't go to work-- two days in a row now.

I waited for him to get there. A knock at the door. When he walked in with sunglasses on, a pair of short shorts and a ripped t-shirt, workboots and gym socks... I knew I was gonna get my money's worth.

*****

I paid him and he lay on the bed.

"Take of your towel, dude. Now."

I did.

"Now take off my clothes, dude. Now!"

I did.

God, he did look young but he acted like a real man. Powerful, dominant and angry.

We went at it-- we were all over each other in a combination of wrestling, attacking and sex-- things slamming, tongues on nipples -- a punch here, a hair-pull there.

The room reeked of sweat and sex.

We took a break -- sucked down some whiskey and went at it again...for hours.

*****

"You like it rough, don't you, dude?" he barked again.

I said yes. And suddenly he punched me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain and he hit me across the face, a small line of blood oozing out of my split lip. I grabbed my mouth to stop it and he kicked me again, this time in the ribs. I heard one break-- I actually heard a crack.

Damnit!

I didn't want it to go this far.... I went soft. I fell on the ground and he kicked me again, knocking me on my side.

"You're a pussy, you know that? Next time you call me, be prepared. Or forget it!" he screamed. He put on his shorts and t-shirt, and left.

The last thing I said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."