‘Good boy.’ I said happy. XXX I moved my hand to cup his balls, softly moving my thumb around the tender skin. I would kiss him and grope him. I stared up at the ceiling and tried to compose myself. We’ll figure something out. I was just mesmerized by his pouting lips. I stared up at the ceiling and tried to compose myself. I pushed some side tables and an easel aside to make room for our bodies, when he was laying on the floor I put the chloroformed rag on his face again, until his eyes finally shut close and his body was completely limp, completely mine. He lifted his head a tried to figure out what was going on. Artists were always somewhat flamboyant, and besides flamboyancy wasn’t an accurate measure of




















