Came home and the first thing I did was untie this fucking cravat. Felt like I could breathe again. Sometimes the contrast hits me hard—the prim and proper knot above, the absolute filth it frames below. Just me, my cock, and the memory of last night's scent still clinging to my skin. It's a strange kind of freedom, being two things at once. The gentleman and the animal. Anyone else feel like they live a double life?