The two men writhed over each other. Their limbs entangled. Hands grasped. Their mouths remained fused all the while. They rubbed their groins together in a vicious grind. They had shaved or waxed, bodies hairless, naked for the camera, allowing the viewer to ogle everything. If they broke the kiss, it wasn’t for long. Their mouths came back together as though ravenous.
Dean ran the film to gauge his reaction, so his flaccid c**k left him with mixed emotions. What began with his imagination and a strong grip before moving on to a book, progressed to a magazine with pictures, to straight porn, and then gay—a film he always found hot and heavy. His d**k refused to get in on the action, and he never struggled to grow hard. Last and only time he remembered being a case of severe inebriation.
