Brian
After I let Ray fall asleep mid morning, I was feeling like I’ve been hit with a ten-ton pile of bricks. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a bone-deep, satisfying type of fatigue, and it only comes from a heavy night of hot s*x. Sure enough, there’s a weight in my arms and when I open my eyes, Ray is lying there, beautiful beyond compare.
He looks so peaceful asleep. His lush pink lips are parted slightly as he breathes, and I almost felt bad for f*****g him roughly when I knew he was enough to qualify as a work of art--the prettiest portrait ever painted, and one that should be kept safe in a museum, only for viewing and never for touching. But then, I grin. I’m a red-blooded American male, and hell, I would have loved taking him every which way until Sunday. I’m not ashamed to admit it ei
