Under a blazing sun in Central California, I am now sitting and
thinking of his dick.
He said it like this, with dramatic pauses between Words.
"I.. Want to… insert ........................ .. my dick.. in.. you"
and we both uttered a loud laugh.
I adore him more and more, the man who speaks so.
We walked through the town and the wild youth had made trouble the night before and they have smashed windows at the Velvet Underground and someone had painted on the wall "Fuck your rules, they are not ours." And we noticed it and it made me smile. And now we are sitting in the sun and we are drinking beer and he says "you smell like I want to fuck you" and I become a tad more horny and squeezes his pumped muscles and was it not illegal, we would had done it right there on the bench at Café Pergolesi and we both agreed on it and we circle the subject it a little more and we like talking about this topic and we sit there, jonesing, like two junkies who don’t have access to the drug, so they talk about how it feels to be high and what they would do if they had gear right now and they go through the ritual cause their dependence requires it. We have become dependent now. We are
depending on it. And so we are planning future meetings and expeditions to Monterey and a fishing trip and a dinner and he says he likes eating something sweet after sex and I say that I do too and we are delighted to find out that we have so much in common .