Where Desire Gathers

In this room, pleasure is shared, walls are stretched.

In the low glow of a downtown loft, on a queen-sized mattress placed flat on the floor, a dry night in Nevada seeped through the cracked windows. The room smelled of musk and raspberry-flavored incense, mingling with the faint, salty tang of sweat and arousal. Black satin sheets draped the king-sized bed, rumpled from earlier teasing, and the sounds of soft music echoed off the walls. With an oddly designed speaker, adding pleasant noise to the room.

At the center stood Jax, a towering, muscular guy with a buzzed head and veins bulging like rivers on his arms. He was dressed to submit: pink sheer bra straining over his pecs, frilly white garter belt cinching his waist, and fishnet stockings hugging his thick thighs. Bent over the bed’s edge, ass arched high, hands gripping the headboard, he presented himself like a prize.

His manhole, that smooth, puckered ring of pinkish-brown flesh, stood out under the low lamp, perfectly moisturized and lubed, with a subtle gape inviting and teasing at the same time.

Look at you, all prettied up and begging for dick,” Marco teased.