Chapter 6A Civilized Man
Ever since I’d taken Mark Vincent to dinner on his birthday, my nights had been plagued with torrid dreams. I’d find myself awakening each morning with the sheets tangled around my legs and my pajama bottoms sticky with drying semen.
At the most inauspicious times—while I was at work, while shopping for groceries, even horseback riding on a Sunday with my mother—I’d remember being on my knees before Vincent, or a fragment of one of those hot dreams would ambush me, and I’d be fully aroused.
I was starting to become used to going through my day half hard, something that hadn’t happened to me since the randy days of my teens. After all, I was the son of Nigel and Portia Mann, and as everyone knew, ice water ran in my veins.
However, now I found that when I got ho
