Jamie 1-844-332-2639 ext 461
“You won’t believe the night I had, Jamie,” Randy’s voice crackled, already a little hoarse, buzzing with the afterglow of his nocturnal adventures. He was a creature of the shadows, and his stories were stained with the same grime. I sat at my kitchen table, the half-eaten remains of a microwave meal cooling in front of me. Randy, on the other hand, was sitting in his car, still slick with the memory of anonymous mouths and urgent hands.
“Got a new spot,” he continued, excitedly. “Back of the old cinema, you know the one? Dark. Perfect. There was this big guy, hairy hands. Didn’t even say a word, just went for it.” He launched into the details, the hot breath, the rough stubble, the frantic rhythm against the plywood partition. He painted the scene with such visceral honesty, I could almost smell the stale sex and the cheap cleaner.
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