Thank you men, thank you beautiful men, for your skin and mouths and for the way you kiss, for the way you let me touch you, for giving your body to me, everywhere to touch, and nothing is forbidden, for all that you give, thank you, thank you tall men and fat men, the older I get the more I like fat men, and you were fat, tattooed and fat, and a little bit bitchy, for that I don’t thank, but for the tattoos and the fat and the way your arsehole was so soft and welcoming, for the way you reached over to suck the other guy’s dick in the cubicle next to ours, for that I thank, for the way you waited till I came back with a condom and lube, you waited and for that I thank, for that I thank you, too, the tall guy from Ireland who liked to call me daddy, you, too, you called me, papi, and I called you mi hijo, also mi putita, but that you didn’t like, not the putita bit, but the arse, that soft hole, that soft fat hole, you gave and for that I thank you, thank heaven, it really is a wonder the way men keep wanting to have sex with one, even the masseur was up for it, how nice when a masseur will kiss you, for free, and for that I thank, because my masseur in Madrid, I’m not sure if she would kiss for free, or if he would kiss for free, but you did and for that I thank you, for the kiss and the way you offered your body to me, your hole in particular, that is a great wonder, and for the way you massaged my arse and my back and my legs, for that deep touch I thank you, and to you, sweet tall man from New Zealand who’s just visiting London, for all those sounds you made when we were making out, the whimpering, I love the whimpering sounds, the sounds of submission and pleasure, of weakness, I love the sound of weakness, and for that I am grateful, because I know how nice it is to make those sounds, the same sounds I made when I sucked on your soft tits, and they were soft, I remember my brother saying that what he liked about women was their softness, and now I am liking that, too, and maybe I am becoming soft, soft for my lover who likes to call me his putita, and I ask him, too, talk to me, I say, and he says mi putita, and I like that, for him I give thanks, and for all men who like holes and for the holes they offer to other men, especially to me, because there are still times, all the time, when I think I am not worthy, even after so many holes in so many years – and we’re talking hundreds – and now I’m back in London, me, too, visiting, after more than a year away and I can make love in English and be understood, and for that I am grateful, for that I give thanks, for being able to make love and to understand all that is being said and to be understood and to play with language to know that language is part of sex, so much part of sex, the kind of sex that I love, and for that I give thanks. This city is sex. So much of what I know about sex I know from having sex in London. All the men that this city has to offer, the men that gather in this city, so many of us here for the sex, for the way we can be touched here, for the sheer number of men that are here and that pass through and that visit, for we are all visiting today, we are all here just passing through, you from Colombia and Helsinki, your from New Zealand, you from Ireland with an eye on Berlin, only yesterday you were there, in Berlin, just outside Berlin, near a lake, in a lake, taking mushrooms all day, what bliss, and for that you would go back, you would go back to Berlin. We all keep moving, and for that I am grateful. For the way you held onto me, for the way you liked my skin against your skin, for the way you knew how to do circular breathing while you jerked yourself off and came, for the way you held your tongue out while I straddled your chest and aimed my cum at your mouth, intending to give you what you wanted, for that I am grateful, for men who know what they want and take it, for more who don’t hold back, for men who are not tentative, I like men who are not tentative, who give everything, for your sweat I am grateful for your mouth so open and taking my spit, and your mouth, too, the masseur’s soft mouth when we kissed after the massage, dick hard between us, and you, too, liking my dick – it’s so hard – in your soft fat arse, what a wonderful arse, so soft and fleshy, so fat and welcoming, the way you lifted your leg onto the shelf and gave your arse to me, yes, like a putita on the streets, putting one leg up on a bin or a bollard or whatever so that you can get fucked, for that I give thanks, over and over, what a wonder to spend a few hours on a Saturday afternoon fucking men, kissing men, being touched and touching men, in this city that can be so cold, this country that can be so cold, all about the money, all about being mean, and yet in this closed warm place under the arches with the trains going back and forth just above us, and didn’t you, tall sweet man from Ireland, comment on how much you liked that, we here in a small cubicle with it’s brickwork exposed, and just a few metres above us, the sound of the trains going in and out of Waterloo Station.