Francois had an eye for pretty girls and he always knew which ones to follow for the greatest yield of enjoyment. Call it a seventh sense living in the loins. Or voyeuristic vibes resounding in the brain. These were the girls - yes they were - he'd spied them a while before, strolling together on and off the curb, girlhood giggles trailing in the breeze. That alone was music, tunes temptatious teeming through the heaven of his fancies. They'd loitered and laughed; and secrets passed between them of the boys they knew, and perhaps what they'd done in moments unwatched. Awakenings. Awakenings, of a tenderous gender. He rejoiced the loose fabric sliding on blossoming shapes, sliding in time to the rhythm of the gait. And the beats of his heart surged like fireworks in the air, as they turned their figures to the ice cream parlor. Brain made giddy by the adrenaline flash, he drifted in behind, observing with the masterful face of disinterest. He believed himself made of ice cream to be selected and scooped into cones then placed in the grasping hands and moved towards tropical lips; and then the licks, the glorious euphorics of each single slide of rosy flesh on the conical culmination. Soon now! Soon now! This sweet rendezvous. And that's when his heart burst as it had before, the time it transformed him into a ghost with unfinished business in fellatial fulfillment. Tragic for him, more so because the service had been paid in full in precedence of collection.

Story #373

Anyone wishing to contribute their own story to this photo, please feel welcome to do so. I apologize again for the irregular posting lately. It has become a challenge to balance work, family and blogging in the last months.