I explain, it’s garbled, he laughs with little sound and less humour. But he does it anyway. His phone out, recording. I am lost. I am lost in a sea...of sweat and euphoria, stench and bliss. Sleaze and cold. More words, more triggers, more pulses, more flashes. The intensity overwhelms me and for the first time I falter. I slip back, on my hands, his grip preventing anything worse. I regain myself, as much as I can. I’m on my knees now. I worry about my boots and then instantly forget. I. "Solomon's facial expression slowly softened after I'd said that.Then, suddenly, without any words being said, Solomon stood up from the sofa and began unzipping his jeans (those tight, faded Levi's, that showed off his muscular thighs and strong buttocks so very well), and he let them, and his boxer shorts slide down around his ankles. He stood there a moment looking down at his cock, which, though I'd often wondered what it was like, was revealed to be a very big and fat cock, with a nice. More

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