Old Joe
A Fictional Story by Max Swan. The fluorescent buzz of the hallway light was the only witness to Old Joe’s ritual. It was past midnight, and the apartment building had gone quiet. Joe stood outside his door in nothing but a threadbare undershirt, his pale, hairy belly hanging over the waistband of his boxers—which he’d tugged down just enough. His tiny dicklette sat there like a shy button, barely a nub, soft and pink, nestled in a patch of greying
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