Then I plastered him with my mouth and tongue in an instant. I lifted the t-shirt from over his head and threw it into the darkness. We continued to k...ss. “How hard did you get when you saw my bikini on the dock?” I asked as we continued to tangle with each other. “I got very hard.” His chest was matted with tight curled hair. “How fast?” “Instantaneous.” “Tell me what you were thinking when you were wanking to me.” “I was thinking about that tight body of yours and how much I wanted to see. The years gigging on the road had taken a toll on my body, not like Keith Richards’ body but then more drugs had passed through his blood stream than had passed through the coast line of Florida. I’m not knocking the man. He was always open with his stash–which looked like a DEA evidence locker–and the first to mumble an incoherent but encouraging word before nodding back into a stupor. We hung out during the summer that Corruptible Pagan was the ‘opening act’ for the ‘opening act’ for the. More

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