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I found myself in the jungle, camera in hand, when I saw him: a drenched twink in the rain, a conspicuous bulge outlined in his white thong. His huge balls and his limp but hefty member, like a promise of lust, were discernible beneath the wet fabric.
Muscular, rather short and a bit on the chubby side, he was a feast for the eyes and imagination. His face of unabashed vice, with a lascivious tongue peeking between his lips and a dribble of drool, was an open invitation to all sins.
With each flash of my camera, the air filled with desire. The muscles of his body tensed and relaxed, a show of strength and virility, while I, at a distance, struggled with the indecency of my mind and the professionalism of my job. The contrast between the innocence of the jungle and his rampant attitude was tangible, and I a mere silent witness to his animalistic provocation.
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