Drescher said no, but I still wondered.I came back to the conversation when Emily kissed my neck. When I looked at her, she nodded her head at Captain...Drescher and Debra. I realized the conversation had stopped. Instead, Debra was very lightly stroking Drescher's erect cock, her fingers barely touching him as she ran them back and forth underneath. Maybe she lingered for a second or two on that bundle of nerves right below the head, maybe not. Drescher watched her hand move. He must have had. It was an iconic celebration by the gay community and I had, in past years, furtively scanned the web admiring the colours and the confidence of the hundreds who marched with pride.And when I said to my brother that I might pop into town to see it, he reacted in a way that amazed me at the time; he was like, "whatever," just as if me going was the most okay thing in the world.So, I caught the train and walked through town to Oxford Street, dressed in jeans and a black tee-shirt, with red floral. More

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