Brandon had an asshole like the Chunnel, and a cock so large, it once beat Yao Ming in a slam dunk contest. All those racist assholes that say Asians have rice dicks should have to spend at least ten minutes of their lives with Brandon's dick up their ass.
Surprisingly, his anatomy wasn't the reason I wouldn't sleep with him. Nor was it the vague smell of fried onion that hovered around him. I wouldn't sleep with Brandon because of his tongue ring.
There are some people in the world blessed with the talent to give head/kiss/lick nipple. If these people would like to stab a piece of steel through their lip/tongue/uvula before they kiss/blow/rim/lick me, they can feel free. But if you kiss like a dachshund with emphysema, for the love of all that's horny, keep your steel balls in your own germ-infested mouth.
Pre-piercing, Brandon once kiss-raped me while we were watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I was totally into John Ritter's performance as a freakazoid android when out of nowhere, a tongue still coated with butter and salt from the handfuls of popcorn he hadn't even finished swallowing yet, suddenly started trying to pry my lips apart. Because Brandon was cute, and I'm a huge slut, I opened my lips for him, and allowed him to continue the assault. After five seconds he pulled away and smiled at me. I said, in my best deadpan: "Don't ever do that again, please."
For two months, he didn't do that again. I only saw him naked because we went skinny dipping with HIS GIRLfriend one Saturday night when they were drunk, and I was bored. Then, during a drive home from work, he waggled his newly pierced tongue at me. "What do you think?"
"Did they kill it?" I asked, hoping the answer was yes.
"No. Ever kissed a guy with a tongue ring?"
The answer was yes, but I knew he wasn't going to give up this obvious plea for attention until I let him kiss me with his new tongue ring, so I said "No." And before he could get out his lame "Do you want to?" come on line, I reached over and initiated kissage.
Have you ever had faux-steel slam against teeth on both sides of your mouth? It's not sexy.
He pulled the car over to the side of the road, and began reaching for my zipper. Knowing where this was going, I reached for the door handle. I'd rather walk a mile home in seven feet of elephant piss and razor blades than have his barbell permanently imprinted on my nutsack, or worse, stabbed through my peehole.
After I invented an imaginary closeted boyfriend who I swore to be faithful to, Brandon was very cool about not doing anything more affectionate than squeezing my ass when we hugged. That's something I'll never have a problem with.