As I watched Emil tumble down the corde lisse, his foot stopping his fall at the last moment, I couldn’t will my erection to detumesce. The flexing, twisting, and arching of his body was nearly more than I could bear. He dismounted, waved to the crowd, and jogged out of the way to let a trio of jugglers on unicycles take center stage.
It was chilly on our last day in Prague, even in the tents. Emil shivered as he applied lotion to his hands. He tried his best to keep his palms from becoming calloused, but I knew it was a battle he wouldn’t win. I tapped him on the shoulder.
“You were perfect as always, Emil.”
He blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Fiori.”
“Gianni, remember?”
“Sorry, yes.”
I looked down, feeling unsure of myself. “I’ve had a broker sell some of my stocks, and I wanted to know if
