Chapter 13

I moan and arch my neck, holding the top of his head with both hands. “Wave,” escapes my dry throat. “Jesus, Wave.”

This cannot be happening. This isn’t real. I’m in a dream. I’m drunk. I’m…

He rolls his mouth up and down the hidden cock, moistening the material with his saliva. He cups my balls with his right hand and gives a short but stinging tug that becomes an aphrodisiac for me…perhaps us.

The moments become a tangle of elegant motion between men; the beautiful poetry of spring lovemaking; the sinister and yet pure acts of relentless lust discovered on the streets of the city during a rainstorm. We act out hunger for each other: simplistically, robustly, roughly, and gingerly at times. Our bodies become one against a large window, splayed there, smudges on glass, vibrations, some light banging that isn’t thunder, and smears of…whiteness.

The charmer at work. Mine. All mine. Exactly what I desire and obtain. Only for me. I won’t have it any other way.