Sidd sat up, his back resting on the headboard, you straddling him, head nuzzled into his blown up neck, your legs are shaky, and you straddling one of his thin thighs. Both of you now just catching your breath. He just got done pegging your ass for who knows how long. It’s ten at night. That room is filled with the smell of sex, deathly almost. It’s pitch black only the light from a small lamp on his work desk. He managed to at least slip a white shirt over you, not him, just letting his bare, pale, skinny chest show, the gain top surgery scars still a bit visible. Mole covered arm, as his other is just a skeleton sleeve, face half blow to bits, brown hair, a mess.