Friday Man was on the tram, this morning. I didn't see him until I was about to get off. He obviously doesn't get on at Brunswick Street, I've got that wrong. He was in casual clothes. Soft cotton pants that bunched around his groin. He adjusted himself, as I gazed at him. He's got bedroom eyes, almond shaped, dark, intense.
He's got a good mouth, a sexy mouth. I could put it to good use. I’d like to taste his breath. Taste the warmth. Taste the manliness. Taste his fluids.
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