#71063 - His lovely blue-grey eyes were still sad and blood-shot from all his crying earlier but his face just looked like a poor little puppy that wanted to be loved. And a gorgeous young man he was too! Every time he came around, I couldn’t stop from remembering my having to pull his trousers off his drunk and sleeping body; and his lovely tight black underpants (with the white trim and piping!) – and all the rest. It was me that probably got hurt because we never made love again, although we became even firmer, deeper friends than before.
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