The room is dark except for the red glow of the tip of my cigarette dangling between the index and middle fingers of my right hand. The sun has set a... I sit on my sofa from which I have not moved for hours after learning that the man killed during my rescue was not my lover. Who was the man driving the car, I wonder. But even more important to me are the whereabouts of the man I grew to love, whose face I long to nuzzle up against, the face on which I have never laid my eyes. I long to make. If the main door opened - someone was entering the men's room - it was amazing how fast we could move in order not to be seen. This might go on for a while - a little play, then stopping, then play, etc - until eventually I would be able to suck him to completion or jack him off. I stood at the urinals sometimes. I remember this one older guy who worked in the mall. He was 6'4 or so, with a gray beard and hair, average build with a really long cock. It was probably 9 inches. He always. More

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