There are only two people who read this blog and know my real identity. Both are close and long-time friends who I know I can talk with and be utterly truthful with the sort of things I discuss here. One of them reached out to me after reading my last entry, and suggested I should have gone into more detail about the weekend and my relationship with the man who was the subject of the essay. Fair enough, I'm going to try to cover some of the details my friend felt should be filled in. First, let's call the man in question Mike. That's not his name but serves to keep me from calling him "the man" for the rest of the page. That's Mike's dick and balls you see up top. The Friday night he recently came over was a pleasant and rewarding surprise. Without repeating myself too much, I needed that restored bond more than I realized. I almost feel like a piece of my puzzle was put back in place. As I wrote last entry, we swam, sat in the spa, tanned, drank wine and ...