It was my third sultry saturday night in Tokyo. I was sick of sweating, and constantly readjusting my dick was keeping me semi-hard. I leaned against a wall for a quick break, glancing around at the thinning pedestrians and unfamiliar sites. That's when I spotted Kiyoshi, a perfect vision of Asian sensuality and masculinity. He stood in front of his motorbike, casually puffing on a cigarette. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, every inch and angle of his body was like a visual drug. He kept looking up at a window and checking his watch. I let out a sigh, wetting my lips, and noticing that this time I hadn't stopped adjusting my dick. It was now rock hard, and I started imagining my dick in the place of that cigarette, those eyes looking up at me instead of the window. I knew if I could ever get that chance, the last thing he would do is check his watch. Suddenly his eyes turned down and fixed on mine; It felt like every spare ounce of blood instantly rushed to my face. A sly grin graced his beautiful pouty lips, while his hand moved down to his crotch. Was he mocking me? I pushed off of the wall, ready to walk away. Before I could take a step, his cock became obviously hard, poking out of the top of his shorts. He was enviously secure with himself, and definately not shy like me...
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