Episode 1

I smile coyly. He keeps looking at me with those beautiful, lusty eyes. Does he know i'm a boi? Yeah, I'm the dyke all the gay boys fancy. But their flat bodies and fleshy cocks do nothing for me. I like mine detachable. Still, he's kinda cute. He could be a dyke... I find myself wondering, what would he look like on his knees in front of me, my fattest cock stuffed down his throat, his beautiful eyes watering, gazing up at me through long lashes. I smile again, make eye contact and head for the men's room.

Episode 2

You shut up, you shut up and bend on all four and scrub the bathroom floor while I shave. You just shut up. I know you love to watch. Keep cleaning, boy. It makes me hot seeing a cute faggot doing housework. You want my cock, boy? You better get the floor nice and clean.

Episode 3

Your thing, your thingy thing, your beautiful cock. I never thought I'd like to see it. I made you keep your clothes on. But my girlfriend wanted to watch. It turns her on to see you naked and grovelling -- a taste I've acquired. A bit like whisky. Would the other gay boys tease you? Do they even know? I've never asked, but I wonder. My wandering mind comes back into my body, all my focus on my girlfriend's cock slipping up behind me, awaiting an invitation. I tilt my hips back and watch your brown eyes following my cock.

You said this is how you thought it should be but you had never done it this way before. You were tired but you liked to be forced into doing things. Do you want to be my equal?

Episode 4

You ask me if I'm leaving a big empty space...I nod and there is some laughter. Just from that. A sweet sadness. You know I miss him. I know you do, too. So funny how we became a thing, the three of us. Yet all things change. Now, there are only four hands, not six, two mouths, not three.

Still, I want this, now, I want the hair on your head. Your button-hole. You know this is how I like to be touched, through the hole in my trousers, drinking whisky from the bottle.

We are touching and moaning and keeping it down. Sometimes I think of Henry Purcell.