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Only a glimpse. It’s all it took. One of those indelible moments that you see. I only wish I could pull over and speak with him, but what would I say? Driving near a university in between a seedy part of town an slightly upscale, this little bit of residential Atlanta had frustrated me of late. A two-lane road with “speed humps” through neighborhoods that clog around rush hour.

In the lower 60s with a wet, cool fog settling over the city, I regretted leaving the office at 6:30 instead of waiting until 7. I’d resorted to essentially prostituting myself to a demeaning temp job downtown for the time being needing to get a little cash to pay the mortgage. The work was well beneath me and I sat much of the day bored out of my mind, but the Diet Cokes were free.

Not him. Not even close.

When I turned the corner is when he came into view, a moment I won’t forget. At first his back facing me. A little shocked since, to me, the weather didn’t warrant a shirtless run. But when he turned around, his jet-black hair ruffled into perspective, framing a perfection of oval face with creamy white skin blended into those more than perfect strawberry cheeks. You know the kind from exerting yourself.  In the gray day, this color of his face just popped just sunshine coming from behind a cloud.

He heaved a breath and continued to inhale and exhale. To attempt to express the perfection of his body, how every single muscle crafted and molded. How his pecs weren’t too big and heaved with pert, deep rose nipples a little less than a quarter. Every defined muscle had smooth ripples with just the right about of fat so that overly ripped appeal that I never understood seemed to be missing. His hands were latched to his waist after his run, the left one just below what probably was his only imperfection — an appendectomy scar that seemed to accent his Apollo’s belt.

The tiny running shorts heaved with his breathing and he inhaled deeply, expelling spit that split into two as it propelled toward the concrete sidewalk.

And then he was in my rear-view mirror and gone.

A little Taylor Latner hair. A smooth hairless body similar to Ryan Reynolds in Blade III but without a tan. Still, without comparison.

I have been to Swinging Richards and seen the best straight boys Atlanta has to offer and I have watched many of television program. The perfection of 10 and beauty of men. I post many every day and write about beautiful men I fuck, young men, older men, men of all sizes.

I appreciate all types of men.

For me to see such perfection and to be thinking of him two days later is unusual.

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