The streets are deserted, the moon a curling sickle in the crystal black night sky. The city has shuttered itself, softened for a moment. The air is icy but I’m not bothered, I’ve moved past that first numbing irritation. As I bike down toward the Park, my throat opens wide with the mean ice-wind. I breathe deeply as my hard belly heaves. I love this riding, this midnight escape. The street is lined with elegant, dark brownstones. The front windows glow mysteriously with the subdued light of Christmas trees that sit beyond thick silk curtains.
I cross East and the icy sidewalk trees shimmer. The expensive bath shops and pastry bars are shuttered and dead. I imagine a cluster of lost, beautiful men hiding in the park, their c*m spurting out and freezing mid air then slicing into me with d
