Matt Busch watched. He stood and watched. Could not avert his eyes tho he begged to.
Move, feet. This is what Matt Busch told his feet and they did not listen. Turn, head.
There was a conspiracy against him. His body desired what his brain could not process.
A smell arose from the men. Lust and sweat and balls and ball powder. Close, nostrils. They would not. Small yips of pleasure came from the men. These intensified.
Matt Busch watched.
“You’re really getting in there.”
“I’m just so happy, Bob.”
“Because social media didn’t exist while we were doing whatever the hell we wanted.”