Getting in your cardio.

Monosyllabic.

Ginger du Jour.

D'aw.

He didn't knock first. You didn't stop. So.

How cum so glum, chum?

When you're waaaaaay ahead of him with ideas.

Not the first time. Just this time. And nothing needs to be asked or said. Afterwards, he'll go back to the farm house and you'll go back through the fence to the naturist park woods and meet up with everyone at the BBQ. Until tomorrow. If that sounds like a memory, there's a good reason.

What? Oh, this? I dunno. Wanna?

Selfie stick.

Dam been writing a book about this and she just TikToked it in 90 seconds.

I watch him run to the ocean, not a care in the world, just as I watched his Dad, just as my Dad watched me, and so on back.

When he's doing just okay and you spot an OMFG 20 feet away jerking off looking at you and smiling.

Bushy bushy blond hairdo . . .

Talking to strangers.

Funny how half a step forward changes the whole invitation.

Nassib. Simple. Honest. Here I am. Deal with it. I love this pic so much.

Holy Orders.

When paddling, technique is everything.

Um, what?

Find someone who looks at you the way I look at Canada

Whale Oil Beef Hooked.

Guys named Brant.

View to a thrill.

Today’s the day.

Gee, Wally.

The first time I saw this staircase at the Guggenheim Museum in New York, I felt Frank Lloyd Wright poke me in the ribs and whisper "Okay, hot shot. Do this." It's a tricky bitch and looks ridiculous within a rectilinear space. It forces the architect into new ideas about the whole.

My Dad drove one of these. 66 Imperial. There's one somewhere in the neighbourhood. I see it every now and then. Guy drove by today. I just got all misty. - It's a Lagavulin and hot tub kind of evening.

When it's the fourth time in 20 minutes he's walked past you and now is just looking at the elliptical bump you've made in your speedo and really, you're already having sex and the next time you're gonna flash him and hand him a piece of paper with a time and place.

Little Brother: I have one of your straw hats on my bedside table you know. I kiss it every night before I get into bed. I put my hand inside it and try to feel your mind, long gone but ever present. I marvel at how you manifest in my Boy, in His words and deeds. I fucking miss you so bad.

Not to be obvious, but.

I'll tell you one thing. On the gridiron, and in the showers afterwards, nobody fucking cared what you like to suck on. We were brothers of battle. It's a different level. And if a brother slapped my ass in the shower, he was always gonna offer his for a return slap. Straight or gay. So.

Proust Questionnaire: Did you get a lot of sex because you played football? - Probably. But I felt interchangeable, so I would just pump bum and have a shower. Did you have sex with your teammates? - Yes. A few. Mostly drunk trade. One romance. Did you have sex with your coaches? - Yes. Not all.

Sometimes I'd look up to see them looking down. Normally that led to spontaneous mutual guffaws. Just cuz we wuz both having so much fun.

One of the reasons I love my gym is that that first barrier (is he gay?) just goes away and the only ones left are "do we wanna fuck?" and "if so, who's first?"

Confidence in conquest.

Spaulders are such a boy magnet.

Guys named Matt.

This household has admired Fabien for years. He deserves all his newer legion of admirers. This kind of body takes intense focus and work.

Today's lesson is controlling the f-stop, which sets the size of your aperture.

When your dick runs out of patience with you actually doing anything about this.

🤣🤣🤣

The art of deflection.

Cutie Patootie.

Those were the days, my friend. We thought they’d never end.

How to make a Regular. Aftercare is critical. This is when his brain is flooded with pleasure and bonding hormones. Stick around. Savour. Gently coax out the last drop of aftercum. Show him worship. Keep your lips locked around the base of his dick. He'll get a second wind if you do it right.

Front of the line.

Word got around. To the point that regulars would bring their friends and they’d become regulars who invited their friends. I didn’t mind.

I was raised on football. My older brother (by 10 years) was extremely patient with wee me. He was varsity. I worshiped him. Taught me about how the ball moves in space. How to catch, tuck and run. Protect it from interceptors. Avoid injury. When I threw my first spiral, he told EVERYONE. Miss him.