It’s late in the evening, and we’ve already shagged once. The kind of sex that left my legs so trembly I felt it in my thighs as we walked down the street to get dinner. Idly wondering, as we made our way there, if passers-by could tell by my messy hair and unsteady gait that I’d just been thoroughly fucked. We went for pints and food. Played pub Jenga on a table outside. I sipped my cider and perved on him shamelessly: enjoying the view of his steady hands carefully pulling bricks from the rickety tower, the way his t-shirt stretched against his taut arms as he reached up to place them on top. Fixating on how the collar opened slightly to flash of the edge of his sexy tattoo.

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