With a square jaw, a perfect smile, and eyes that seemed to sparkle, the bartender could have been a model—and probably was, for all Nick knew. He had shaved his head, but sported a trimmed moustache and goatee, dark with perhaps a few flecks of grey. His body was a solid wall of muscle. His torso had a light covering of dark hair, which thickened into a line that led to a wild tangle of black pubic hair. Jutting, semi-erect from his bush, was a thick, veiny c**k whose head was only just covered by foreskin. Beneath his impressive organ was an equally impressive set of low-hanging balls, which Nick noticed swung every time he moved.
“That’s Bruno,” said Edmund. “He’s a particularly fine specimen of a man, isn’t he? I’ll introduce you if you like.”
Nick baulked at the idea. “No,” he snapp
