All you'd see now Is some Latin Steroid abusing Bodybuilder who dressed like a santa monica Blvd street hustler and spoke such broken sexually explicit English you'd think he was born for Porn.

The only clothes I wear over my huge ridiculously tan and round muscles are either lycra or so tight that they're made for girls. I can't help it. It's the only clothes I seem to even want to wear. I try and go in the store with the little money that master let's me keep from my gigs stripping, and buy something normal...something I used to be able to wear. But every time I end up wandering over to the young Miss section and squeezing my muscle bound Latino ass into a pair of short short's meant for a fourteen year old girl and a tank top that says boys lie that stretches obscenely across the my disgustingly mammoth tits, that exposes my belly button. Which is extra gross because Master took me down to a shop off of sunset and had it pierced with a little blue stone. The store girls always laugh and they should because the damn shorts never cover the girth of my roid pumped glutes and leave the big muscled ass fleck of my butt exposed so everyone can watch the caramel skin flex up and down like a horses hunched when I walk. And even though I want to get mad all I can do is smile sweetly and pay for my tramp clothes. Which always leads to trouble because my counting isn't very good and I don't understand American money very well. I should just stop going out without Master Steve. He always takes care of me and I'm just too estupidio to be out alone. That's another thing Steve did...since I already knew Spanish he said it was easy to make me forget every language I knew but that. I still know a little English, just enough to get by, but the words I know are inappropriate and they make me look like such a dumb fag. I can't call my chest a chest or even pec's, the only word I can manage is tits... I can't refer to myself as Steve's boyfriend, friend or even roommate...all I can say is House boy and fuck toy. He even went to all the trouble of making me watch Spanish soap opera's so that I'd have the perfect, Thick barely intelligible Spanish accent. I talk with such a thick romantic lilt that I can barely understand myself. Steve loves it. In fact Steve loves everything about me now...he can't keep his hands off of me. We make love three or four times a day...and I don't mind it that much anymore... I love his green eyes and smile and the way he holds me like his little Spanish fly...that's what he calls me sometimes when he's holding me after fucking me raw. I like the fuck to. I like feeling the hard rigid cock filling me or bending and slurping at his rod like a hungry beast. I've started to like the way that my body feels like a wild machine built for fucking. I like Steve's hard body on mine. Are big immense forms riding together as he takes me over and over again. Every time I work out all I can think about is getting bigger so the sex will be better...that's all I really think about now...Steve, my muscles and sex... cock, ass how I can get I, how I can give it...

But that's basically the story up to now...except for the other day he told me to look at his watch again and try to read the writing on it. I did, and I really concentrated and finally I suddenly looked up and said "livin la Vida Loca?!" he smiled and laughed. I don't think that's what it really says but he tried to make me feel better by telling me it did. That's when he told me to write all this down. I have to go though he wants to talk to me....He says he wants me to sit on his cock one last time and tell him how stupid I am for old time's sake...I don't know what that means... •