He’s reaching into a lefthand pants pocket. Gay sex To satisfy an itch—a fantasy—a desire. He pushed in. Your fee.”You blink. He had questions:“Am I the only one tonight?”“You’re the first,” you replied hopefully, staring down at a pillow.“How many do you usually get in a night?”“Depends,” you claimed. A wife and kids to get back to, probably.To the extent one can shrug when down on one’s elbows, camel-style, you shrug meaty, rounded shoulders. Was it fifty? We’ll see.”The man is dressed again. But your email said I could bareback you and all, so…”“It’s OK,” you said. To satisfy an itch—a fantasy—a desire. You?”“As a horse. You’re conscious of your balls hanging down now, pendant, heavy, having relaxed. Far as you know he never removed his button-down shirt. “Friday night? Exposed. No—he’s confused. And not just because you’re carrying this guy’s load of semen deep inside you declare, warmly:“Would you like to come back?”“When?” He’s buckling his belt, in a hurry. Not too thick, not too thin. Small, limp cock dangling.
