The trousers had greeted a thousand suns already and still had so many more left in them, that's what happens when you take the time to make things well. They last.
The trousers were the usual sort our men wear, but on him they somehow drew the eye in, or perhaps there was more to him than all that. Perhaps we objectify at times when we are unwilling to acknowledge such strong connections.
Keep track of your favorite writers on Descriptionari
We won't spam your account. Set your permissions during sign up or at any time afterward.