Unzipping Church:
There Room for Everyone?
Thomas Bohache
Parking the car. Hoping it will be safe. I go up to the front door, dark of course. I look around. No one is there to see me 舰 I hope. What am I doing here? I ask myself that every time I come here. A locker is cheaper, so that’s what I get. I get buzzed in. I find my locker. I get undressed. Anticipation pounds in my ears. I drape the towel around me, although it doesn’t fit particularly well. Should’ve lost more weight before venturing out. I hear a sound. I turn toward the door, and he’s there. The most beautiful man I have ever seen. Our eyes meet. He smiles. So do I. “Will you be here long?” “As long as it takes.” “Maybe I’ll see you later?” Yeah, right. Like HE would want ME.
So I walk down the hall, trying to forget how much I want him. I pass rooms with open doors. I look in; they look back. Do I want to go in? Do I dare? I see so much beauty and feel so much pain. There’s a door that everyone seems to be focused on. I look over their shoulders. It’s him. So desirable. So beautiful. Yet so alone. No one will approach him. What are they afraid of?
I walk toward the orgy room. There are so many there, in various stages of ecstasy. I walk out. It’s too intense. I stroll down another corridor, and there he is—the one everybody wants. But what’s he doing? He’s blowing a guy who’s even fatter than me—rolls of flab encasing his cock so it’s not even visible. And yet this Adonis is on it, gobbling it, enjoying it, taking the fat man to heaven. Is this happening?
I retreat, walk down another corridor. The selling point of this particular establishment is that it’s like a maze. You never see the same person
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