Strike Out

Yes that's my hand.

I have no words of which to describe this failure.  I tried holding back the excitement, and the best way to do that was to douche.  But somehow, eventhough it was your second time here, the first time you passed through the main hallway to the lobby for our dinner, you still seemed unrelaxed.  I was pretty sure it wasn't me, but I admit while eating the measely Burger McDo, all I could think about was your fries.

And so back here I noticed you didn't even bother taking a bath ... and soon I would be reminded of another encounter with a student of my friend's the last time I met up with him.  It perplexes me why gay guys do this.  Oh wait ... you're not out yet.

As we stood by gazing out the balcony door, I felt optimistic that we'd fare better the second time around. You felt that optimism too since I was standing behind you or you wouldn't have seen the view.

I tried going through all the stops, twists and turns, all the maneuvers I could think of to some success.  I hate that you stopped me from your release, but I remembered we were to do something else and so I submitted at first by trying out the cushioned seat, and when that did not work, resting on my forearms and shins.