Yesterday I “knew” “A”, 25 minutes flat. We did not shake hands, covid obliges. He looked better than the picture he sent me on the dating site. 20 years old, the complexion a little reddened by the sun, tanned, amiable, smiling. Once home, he brushed my penis protected by faded red cotton pants. I returned the favor to him. -It's stupid we can't kiss ... We caressed each other, gently, slowly. -Go, too bad we kiss! Her lips are soft, her wandering tongue and her languid French kiss, but not too daring. Nothing to do with those supposedly virile queers who stick their big tongues into your mouth like a mortar shell. "A" is both determined and reserved. He begins to undo the buttons of my falzar which slides on my thighs. My boxers do not resist his insistent solicitations for long and follow the same path. I return the favor to him. His "centurion" mounts a fairly vigilant guard and asks me for some efforts to unwind followed by an incontestable victory over the vigilant guardian of his modesty. His calcif slips like a single man down his fluffy thighs. In any army, the second line is always more fragile than the first. Our sexes fraternize in a beautiful erection worthy of the Luxor Obelisk. We observe them, too quickly I think, because they would have deserved a longer moment of erectile fraternization. Unlike the strip tease, in this student studio far from the Moulin Rouge, we first remove the bottom then the top. It is well known that gays do everything backwards. His T-shirt is from a major surf brand nicknamed by Quebecers "quicksilver". It is an orange long caressed by the sun; I slide him down his side while he raises his arms like a statue of Michelangelo or perhaps Rodin. A lovely line of black hair connects her navel to the hollow of her pecs. He gently attacks my white Lacoste which flutters somewhere on the ground after my torso is willingly contorted. Unlike the mosque, our shoes were left last at the exit of this charming path to nudity. Here we are naked not like worms but like beings of desire whose sexes do not lie. His is as vigorous as a Swiss guard protecting the entrance to the Vatican. - Shall we go to my bed? -Yes okay. His sucker takes hold of my prick which asks only that. His tongue explores the different faces and I gladly let him wa ...

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