Talk about embarrassing. Indian hot sex After a six month layoff. Of self-loathing. At least not yet. The sneaky little touch of my fingers running across the mirror glass. What was he asking? Shit sakes. Immediately, my tongue feels numb. The guy is about five foot six in height, and easily, two hundred pounds of steroid enhanced muscle. Right. I now understand my miscalculation. Hands were unbuttoning my shirt. They will be taking advantage of this annual day of recovery. Yes, nice and numb. Seeing the towel men is not a happy development. The guy was thin, gaunt and ugly, had a wispy pony tail, and was older than my dad. Christ. I must have blown my load into my jeans while he was shooting down my throat. Again?”
Shit. This neighborhood is stuck in no man’s land. If I can call it an experiment. I work hard to avoid looking at these creatures. Rico was loud, Latino and proud. Mentor Man was bigger than me. It means you are available to be leashed.”
What did he mean? Single men are drifting around, aimlessly looking for, for what? Illicit. Great. It really was time to go. My body and motor functions continued to deteriorate. Then I could pause, rewind, freeze frame it all.
