Alexander’s Travel Diary: A year of passionate messages condensed in the humid air of Havana.
Alex lowered his cell phone camera as the Cuban Dy stepped into the beam of light filtering through the blinds. No more pixels. Just honey-colored skin, eyes filled with a year’s worth of desire, and the silent challenge of savoring each other.
“Ready, Barcelona?” Dy’s voice, deeper than his WhatsApp audios, vibrated in the cramped space.
Alex’s thumb brushed the REC button. This wasn’t just filming. It was consecration. Every promise of sex in their conversations had brought them to this point. The iPhone lens, cold and objective, was their only anchor in the growing storm of desire.
Alexander’s Travel Diary: A year of passionate messages condensed in the humid air of Havana.
Alex lowered his cell phone camera as the Cuban Dy stepped into the beam of light filtering through the blinds. No more pixels. Just colored skin, eyes filled with a year’s worth of desire, and the silent challenge of savoring each other separately.
“Ready, Barcelona?”, the Cuban Dy’s voice, deeper than his WhatsApp audios, vibrates in the narrow space.
Alex’s pulse rubs the REC button. This wasn’t a solo film. It was consecration. Every promise to follow up in his chats has been betrayed so far. The iPhone lens, cold and objective, was his only anchor in the growing torment of need.
Leave a Reply