The party should have ended an hour ago. Taxis were hailed, friends old and new hugged goodbye. What a night; how lucky we are to live in this city. When that knock came on your door just after midnight, we were sure it was the police, come to enact their terrible will! But no, just a neighbor politely asking if you’d turn the music down. You complied, and this friendly neighbor joined us for a beer. How we laughed! Truly, a party to remember. Even he though, who lives in the building, has left by now. Only us two remain. You’ve been such a wonderful host. Shall I help you tidy your apartment? No no, you won’t allow it. Still, you stop short of sending me on my way.

Let’s stop with the games, you and I. You know very well what I am and what I need, so there’s no sense in dancing around what we both know to be true. I’m a dirty boy. I’m a dirty boy, and I’m hungry for more.

I was not always a dirty boy. When I was little, I was a soapy baby like any other. The powders, the lotions- all were partaken of, all were enjoyed. It felt good to be a bath boy, and splashing was baby’s favorite. I smile still, remembering tub times. So innocent I was then. Do you recognize that child as he stands before you now? Of course you do not. Baby grew up and learned to be dirty, and he’s loving every minute of it.

The facts are this: I used to be good but now I am bad, and I don’t care who knows it. I’m a steamy freak in the streets and the sheets, for to dirty boys there is no difference- and there is no boy dirtier than I.

Also, I am hungry for more.

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Dirty boys love to get a taste.

Your dirty boy is desperate for one more taste, and he’ll cry all night unless you give it to him. Consider yourself warned, though: I’ll never be full. No treat could hush this rumbling tum, no snack could sate this starved heart. Mine is a hunger of flesh and spirit both, and baby is drooling in anticipation. My longing is a mongrel tugging tight at its chain, ready to run wild yet still obeying your every command. Do not mistake my want for pain, however. I like the hunger. To crave is my fave. This is but one of the things that makes me such a dirty boy.

I’m daddy’s nasty miracle, and I can’t get enough.

Just as players are born to play and haters to hate, so was my dirty boy destiny written in the stars. There is no case to be made against my nature, but be sure: I am naughty by nurture as well. My reason for being is depravity; my every choice an echo of the fates. Do not deny me what I am.

A bold, albeit unsurprising thought has entered my mind: should you deem this party over, tell me not. I’ll offer no help cleaning up, I’ll sit on no subway at this hour. I want this night to go on forever, and the reasons why are clear.

I’m a messy mister and I’m looking for a bad time.

I’m a greasy fiend and I’m greedy for feed.

I’m a dirty boy. And I’m hungry for more.

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