That time in March the sun came out for the first time and we rode Citi Bikes through Prospect Park. We loved the hazy sunshine a brown gold an apple cider glow. but we didn’t have gloves so we kept complaining that our hands were freezing. We docked the bikes and she came in for a hug. Quickly, she stuck her hands down the front of my sweatpants and grabbed my balls with both hands. I let out a gasp. It was the cold and her calloused palms from the farming parts of Connecticut. I pulled back but she looked me in the eyes so sweetly and whispered “no.” The way she looks at me is the way I want to be looked at. I embraced the cold and I hugged her, I buried my hands in her hair. She was warming her hands with my balls and I was warming my hands with her hair. The clear distinction between her hands and I started to fade and I started getting hard. Later she described it as “not elegant like a butterfly and the chrysalis and more writhing like a molting roach. It didn’t take long to warm her hands and she snapped my waistband and said “thanks”
You can find Carlos Jimenez on Instagram @carloscantdance