Saturday, March 22, 2008


Blowjobs were things that Alero seemed to excel at receiving.  He even changed his Christian name from Pascal Corolla to Alero because that was the car he received his first blowjob in.  There was something about his unit that attracted the female mouth.  Women just couldn’t get enough.  He never once – in his accumulated 1,740 blowjobs – ever asked a woman to give him one.  It was something that they immediately went for, not one of them even asking Alero to return the favor.  This was his curse.  Usually, his litmus test for a “return customer” was when, without warning, he’d spooge in their mouths or on their faces while screaming “Surprise” in an over-the-top, Charles Nelson Reilly manner.  But they always came back for more.  He was never sure why any woman would be such a glutton for punishment.  Even his tactics of yelping “Bees!  Bees!” or singing the jingle to the Mr. Mouth commercial during his inevitable climax couldn’t shake them.  He hated himself for having to do this, even refusing a long line of 14 women in the men’s bathroom at the Double Load Laundromat once.  I witnessed this “turning away” on many occasions and, as much as I envied the guy at first and lived vicariously through him in many ways, I soon realized he was just a man like me, full of wishes and dreams and goals, all of which had nothing to do with him being “The Blowjob King.”  That was a title thrust upon him.  Unfairly, I tend to believe.  

I’m sure many of you here today only know him from his performances below the waist.  Some of you, numerous times.  But Pascal “Alero” Corolla was just a man.  And when he put that gun barrel to his lips, he wasn’t trying to see what it was like on the receiving end.  He was trying to end the pain.  He was simply trying to see what it was like to be a man again.



Blogger J'Mza said...

almost like a beat poem...

March 23, 2008 at 7:59 PM  

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