Placing my fabric trainers on the shoe rack, I dropped my gaze to my wristwatch: I had an hour.
However, now the skies had cleared somewhat, and as I stepped indoors after returning from a bike ride, I was pleased to see that my feet remained perfectly dry. I had recently acquired a sturdy new umbrella, but no amount of waterproofing could protect my light summer shoes from getting soggy with rainwater. The soothing sound of rain I could get used to, but stepping outside was always a thoroughly miserable affair. It rained and rained, until I started to feel as if I had a water feature installed in my balcony. It is written from the point of view of a gay masseur. Below is a fictional gay massage story contributed by our writer.
