when october bends
dark chocolate ice cream.
the gut set at oster #2.
i am away. yes, once again. from the two female ashes. several hundred miles, an inguinal cue for sam to take the abo-hand.
the buffet has now progressed.
only the grunt of nadal and djokovic on static.
only the striped uniqlo between sheets and skin.
the hunt begins. the ding-dong screams.
he was slim. silky slim. hairless, and silky slim. he reminded me of
college high school days with the soccer varsity team.
"are you sure you're above eighteen?"
he showed me his company id.
yes, it was time. THE first time. this thirty-one-er.
will need to prep his little wand. and probe the fortresses of anal land.
i needed the curiosity fix. and he was on a homo glandular itch.