Set in a posh Manhattan art gallery, a wordly financier attends his married former lover's deviant art exhibit and in the midst of a debauched orgy of wealthy perverts, broke rentboys, and other shady types sparks fly between the two old flames. An intriguing new series from Horny Old Fag!

Psychos and Sinners - Chapter 1
by Horny Old Fag
Series: Psychos and Sinners
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Quentin leaned forward. “Drop me on the right.” The town car pulled to the curb. He compared the address etched on the once grandiose edifice against the calligraphy on his invitation. They matched. He signed for his fare and crawled out.

Majestic columns greyed with smog framed the entrance. Grinning gargoyles flocked in pigeons loomed from the buttresses. He trotted up a steep flight of steps and rang the buzzer. The lock clicked. He slipped inside.

A colossal security guard whose shredded chest and bum strained the seams of his scant white vest and short-shorts approached. Tribal tattoos banded his powerful cocoa brown guns.

Quentin presented his passport. The brusque giant compared his photo to his mug and returned his papers.


He opened his briefcase. The guard glanced inside.

“Remove your coat.”

He slipped off his trench.

“Raise your arms.”

The handsy bloke patted down his body, lingering on his crotch.

“Tell you what, the invitation said clothing optional.” He unzipped his trousers. “See for yourself.”

The sheepish guard retreated behind his counter. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Hughes. Enjoy the show.”

Quentin chuckled. “Thought as much.” Everyone obsessed over the size of his knob. If his investments ever fizzled, he could always do porn. Although, at forty-three he might be a tad long in the tooth.

He slung his trench over his arm, grabbed his briefcase, and ambled down the hallway. Fantastical murals of anguished blokes restrained naked and suffering torments both pleasurable and painful graced the walls. Bold brush strokes expertly captured their writhing torsos and engorged knobs.

A buff lad with platinum blond hair, sporting white eyeshadow and lipstick, and clad in a scant white Thong that left little to the imagination, grabbed the door. White polish glossed his neatly-manicured finger and toenails.

Quentin leaned down and whispered. “Posers like you make lousy fucks.” He tossed the flustered attendant his trench and bag and whisked past. Before the night was out, the fetching lad would beg to ride his pork sword.

A recording of Ravel’s “Bolero” resounded off the walls of the stark white gallery. The Orchestre de Paris recording if he was not mistaken.

Floral arrangements constructed of brightly colored condom wrappers adorned white cocktail tables. Individual packets of lubricant lay scattered beneath the artfully arranged centerpieces.

A slight bloke around thirty years old, whose platinum blond hair, white makeup and nail polish, and scant white thong made his leathery tan appear even more extreme, offered champagne.

Quentin grabbed a flute and scanned the room, expecting more paintings, or sculptures, perhaps a performance art piece. Instead, his former lover and visionary artist Gilles Macon had devised a series of deviant vignettes featuring naked blokes restrained and violated in absurd poses.

In the center of the gallery, a towering specimen of manhood with wavy black hair and a wolfish snout teetered on the balls of his spindly dogs atop a white dais, with his sinewy arms winged backward and bound to the truss overhead. His stunted knob appeared all the smaller given his exceptional height.

A stonking huge daffodil yellow dildo mounted to a whirring fuck machine slowly shagged the rugged model. A dildo mouth gag in the same shade plugged his snarling cakehole. The bright splashes of color appeared even more vibrant against the otherwise monochromatic exhibit.

A white leather quirt dangled from a hook on the dais, alongside a plaque that read, “Grand mouchard, petite pénis, 2019, 1 de 5 dans interactif vivant connards puni séries.”

Quentin snickered. Indeed, the big snitch had an obscenely tiny knob. By punished arsehole, he wondered if Gilles meant the bloke or his bum. Knowing his chum’s perverse humor, probably both.

He snatched the quirt and swatted the robust snitch. The startled bloke lurched forward with a pinched snort. Sweat dripped from the hook of his schnoz onto his wobbling yellow face dildo.

Across the room, two doughy chaps in dark suits groped a fit Latino waiter. The squiggling lad sported the requisite white makeup and thong but his pale scalp looked recently shaved.

In a nearby corner, a strapping mahogany bloke buckled into a bright red bungee harness bounced atop a gigantic dildo in the same shade, which was mounted to a high steel rod embedded into the floor. The frantic fellow nearly popped free and sank back down, furiously suckling his bright red dildo mouth gag. His powerful limbs flapped, his plump knob flopped, yet his firm moobs barely jiggled. The shrieking model shot upward, and the cycle repeated.

A plaque alongside the vignette read, “Le voleur rencontre la gravité, 2019, 2 of 5 dans interactif vivant puni connards séries.”

First a snitch, now a thief. He wondered what other shady types lay in store.

A thawbed and turbaned Arab sailed into the gallery and stopped short. His portly companion in the baby blue seersucker suit clipped his heels and apologized profusely in a lilting Southern American accent. The pair grabbed champagne and took in the room.

A slight waiter with a permanent sneer on his elfish mug sailed past.

Quentin raised his glass. “If it’s not too much of a bother.” The perturbed waiter stopped short and heaved an exasperated sigh. He exchanged his empty flute for a full one.

“I suppose you wanna see a menu?”

“Certainly.” Having come directly from the airport, he could do with a bite to eat.

In the next work, a rawboned bloke dangled by his knobby ankles from the truss. The handle of a beaded hot pink dildo protruded from his upended bum. The squiggling fellow cracked his rangy toes. His ropy plonker slapped his slim gut.

Steel handcuffs secured the dangling fellow’s wrists to a ring embedded into the floor. A shellacked cowboy hat and boots rested beneath his straggly brown locks. A hot pink dildo mouth gag stuffed his whimpering cakehole.

A plaque alongside the nonplussed cowboy read, “Parieur trompeur, 2019, 3 of 5 dans interactif vivant connards puni séries.”

Quentin wondered who the gambling cowboy had deceived.

A scruffy rascal wearing a leather bomber jacket over a ripped white t-shirt and faded blue jeans swaggered into the gallery barefoot. The spare bloke slipped off his shades and combed his fingers through his bristly black hair. He looked a hot mess.

Hot mess grabbed champagne from a puny baby-faced waiter and strutted into the gallery to tease his fingers around the dial of the fuck machine. The antsy snitch glowered down and shook his shaggy noggin. The grinning rascal nudged the speed. Tall, dark, and dickless lurched forward with a shrill squawk.

In the fourth vignette, a hirsute hunk with the dark good looks of Clark Kent and swoll body of Superman lay strapped spread-eagle over a dome of steel bars like one might find on a playground. A glowing neon green electro-pad wrapped his hooded chode. An electro-probe in the same shade corked his furry bum.

The grimacing model flinched and jerked. His plaque read, “Électrocuté arnaqueur, 2019, 4 of 5 dans interactif vivant puni connards séries.”

Quentin wondered who the swoll grifter had swindled. He nudged the dial on the power box. The stunned bloke screeched and bit down hard on his neon green dildo mouth gag. His powerful limbs trembled; his stout toes splayed. Judging by his burgeoning boner, however, he could not be all that miserable.

The elfish waiter passed him a menu. He perused the offerings, expecting food and drink. Instead, tickling cost $50. A bob on a knob $75. A shag $100. The waiters doubled as rentboys. The night just got better and better.

“How much to spank your smart arse?”

“Let me check.”

Suddenly, the impudent brat sounded twelve years old.

“You do that.”

Save for the colossal bloke guarding the entrance and the beanpole of a bartender, the staff all stood well under six feet tall, and aside from the somewhat older waiter with the deep tan, looked to be in their late teens to mid-twenties.

Quentin paused atop a white steel grate. Three forlorn lads lay wedged inside a shiny porcelain tub with their wrists zip-cuffed to their ankles. Mauve dildo mouth gags horned their whimpering cakeholes. Matching plugs stoppered their cute bums.

The lean blond with the stubby ponytail growled. His slim pecker hugged his dusty brown pubic hairs. The carpet did not match the drapes.

The slight prick tease in the middle with the kinky black curls and sad puppy dog eyes whimpered. His pert knob peeked over a forest of a bush.

The fit all-American boy-next-door with the sleek ash-brown helmet of hair shaved down below. His limp plonker hugged his hairless crotch.

A plaque on the wall read, “Enfants innocents dans le des latrines, 2019, 5 de 5 en interactif vivant puni connards séries.” If the lads were innocent, he wondered why their arses were in the loo.



  1. 31118azti - September 6, 2019, 9:11 am

    Interesting intro but a translation would have been nice along with more art work.

  2. darkmusingsofahornyoldfag - September 6, 2019, 3:42 pm

    Sorry you’re disappointed. I’m a writer, not an artist. Can’t draw or create graphic art. Tried to make the translations clear in the context. Guess that didn’t work the way I hoped.

  3. scotts60143 - September 12, 2019, 7:41 am

    Really enjoyed the first chapter and as soon as I have time will get to the 2nd! I thought well written, and the translations were very clear in the context!! Of all of them, I love the 5 de 5…just picturing the 3 hunks in a tub is HOT! And how funny your description of the first guy hit on one of my biggest turn on ever…a guy with blond hair on his head, but dark hair, (preferably black!) everywhere else! Always a huge turn on…maybe reliving one of my first experiences with a guy who had that trait. And damn if he wasn’t one of the hottest guys EVER!! LOL! I can tell you from my own personal experiences that they do exist!!

  4. darkmusingsofahornyoldfag - September 27, 2019, 3:28 pm

    Wow! Thanks for taking the time to share. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.

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