sal ganuth

“That’s great, Adam. Keep Marc pinned down like that, c’mon Adam, hold him.”
Marc struggles but can’t break free. He tries to avoid eye contact with his team, the audience. I mean, who the fuck wants to make eye contact when you’re splayed out, on show in a skin hugging wrestling singlet?
Marc struggles again, but it’s hopeless. Adam has Marc locked in position.

“Neat buns,” Marc hears one of his team mates call.
“Fuck off,” Marc mutters.
“Dude, your crack is on show.”
“And your hole.”
“Fucking hell, Marc, don’t that hurt?”
“Maybe Marc is used to the position?”