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A dark-haired young man looks at me. He stands there naked, and I slowly look him up and down. He's far away; he doesn't appear to be a bodybuilder, but you can certainly tell he's well-built with his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His brown complexion shimmers in the light, and his dark, slightly trimmed chest hair contrasts with and emphasizes the curves of his well-shaped and toned chest. He runs his hand over his chest, the hair sliding through his fingers, and he plays with his left nipple with his middle finger until it hardens. Then the hand slowly moves further down, following the trail of hair that widens on his lower abdomen and ends in a thick, black bush. His cock hangs limp, nestled against his low-hanging scrotum, and the pink head peeks mischievously from the slightly retracted foreskin. He turns slightly to the side and bends his arm to flex his biceps, examining the hard bulge that has formed with his other hand. His gaze travels down his broad, lightly hairy thighs, stopping at his pronounced calves before looking up again and fixing his gaze directly on me. I look deep into his green eyes, and they reveal that he is quite satisfied with his inspection. A slight smile plays on his lips. Yes, I am satisfied with what I see in the mirror, and I turn around and walk from the bedroom to my new bathroom. As I do so, I think, "Tom Solano! The world belongs to you," and laugh to myself. I recently moved into this three-room apartment because I wanted to start my life completely over. After my 30th birthday, I realized that I couldn't continue the way my life was going. So, after a long struggle with myself, I broke up with my girlfriend, took a new job, and moved to Munich. For a long time, I thought I was happy and that my desire for men was just imaginary and that I could ignore it. But over time, I realized that my girlfriend couldn't satisfy me on her own, and my desire grew ever stronger. What started as a hunch that I was attracted to men bec
