A Well Made Bed

The guy's apartment was in one of those massive apartment complexes on West End Avenue. I thought that I had been there before. Something about the place looked familiar, however he did not. The apartment was like that of lot of old people's. Things were neat, wooden furniture seemed too polished, everything in its place, nothing lying around, no mess of papers, framed photographs on side tables. I really had the sense that I had been in that apartment before but sometimes things just look that way, like some place you have been before. But also I wondered if maybe I have not been in so many random apartments of men at this point that I may not even remember people. Had I maybe seen this man years ago and blurred his face together with that of so many other random men? I wasn't sure. He was quite old, had stitches down the front of his chest like he had had heart surgery recently. He was bald and had really nice eyes, really soft and flabby skin, loose, and yet real pleasant to touch. He sucked my dick and kissed my feet in a way that made me look at them like they were really beautiful, made me kind of see what he saw. We kissed. It was nice. I came home.