My Nipples are Hard in the Cold Morning Air...

My nipples hard in the cold morning air at my Adams Morgan compound. I am air drying after my morning hygiene ritual and management has yet to turn on the heat. I’m sipping my breakfast wine over a plate of turtle eggs and free range bush baby bacon that a friend acquired somewhere in DC. I think about the owner who might have missed the bush baby, as I am sensitive to the feelings of others, but then catch sight of myself in one of the many mirrors in the compound and all I can think of now is a body that almost resists adequate description.

Chilly. I put on my dark green Armani suit. Blue shirt. Of course the arms are ripped off of both to accommodate my massive biceps. I complete the outfit with an orange and green Hermès tie. No penguins. Brown framed Jean LaFont glasses with orange-tinted lenses to better stalk my prey.

I am taking the day off to get my hair cut and my chest waxed as one faithful reader suggested. I'll be leaving soon so I hope there will be opportunities for my flex point wink with a trigger finger. Maybe a chance to give a lovely the thrill of my signature Front Double Biceps pose. Perhaps she will reach orgasm when I segue into a Back Lat Spread. Maybe someone will request a charcoal rubbings of my abs? Who can tell the future? Not even I can.

Me you ask? Eating exotic animals and their embryos. High fashion. Ripped definition. Stalking my prey in and around Adams Morgan That is what I am about. And if you are tired of the “free erotic massage” New Age milquetoasts of craigslist, drop me a line.