Just had the weirdest fucking nostalgia trip cleaning out the closet. Found an old leather jacket from when I was running with the Crimson Sirens bike crew. Smells like cheap whiskey, gasoline, and bad decisions. We’d ride all night, fuck in the back of garages, and I’d watch the toughest-looking guys turn into moaning, mindless puddles after a taste of my cock. They’d beg for my cum like it was the last hit on earth. Now those same assholes are probably hedge fund managers with a secret Grindr addiction. Some things never change. The jacket still fits, though. Might have to take the old girl for a spin, see if she still scares the neighbors. 😈