I waited at Café Campana, book in hand, linen pants loose, chest bare under my jacket. Tom arrived late, as always. Smiling, unchanged by years or cancer. We wandered Cézanne’s portraits, silences thick with unspoken…
I waited at Café Campana, sipping coffee, lost in my book. Tom was late, as always. The museum air cooled my skin, my linen pants loose, chest bare under the jacket. Heart steady, but anticipation…
The Sexodrome hums with electric anticipation. I sit front row, cock straining against my suit. Lola, my girl, enters with five other virgins. Washed, shaved bare, nipples pinched hard by the bathers. Skin gleams under…