Prison Without End
Prison Without End Nothing is more memorable or potentially arousing than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a face from the past. Or a foot. Or a cock. In my case, I am ashamed to say, all three. I caught it in a crowded elevator, on the way up to my office. His smell detonated softly in my memory like a velvet land mine. In moments, my soft prick grew hard. I turned my head, discretely, to catch sight of him; he of the three years that I...