He slides his white medical pants right down and steps out of them but he keeps his gown on for some reason. I think he might just have an eye for the erotic detail, I don’t know. It is blindingly white, and frames his chest perfectly.

He steps away from me now, his fine fat cock swinging to each hip as he stands, and he reaches for the shower, setting it running until we gaze in adoration at each other through curtains of steam. And he takes my hand, and he holds me tight, and we step inside onto tiling that would hold ten men, if we had such a team, but which now gives us all the space we might need, and for whatever we wish to enjoy.

A different flavour, a different sensation. Thicker on my tongue, slippier in my throat.

He kisses at my neck, and down to my collarbone; and eventually nimble fingers start to undress me, and his tongue slides across my chest, and his hands are adept at my zip, determinedly exploratory as they slide inside.

For this is the quiet moment before they fuck me. The moment where we all know every minute of the next hour, and sail gently towards making it manifest. Every look and every lick and every touch and every inch of these boys inside my body seems as written in the stars as could be.