Harry: So, what have you been up to this week, Butch?

Butch: Nothing out of the ordinary. You know me, working hard and playing harder as usual.

Harry: That’s what I thought. Been hitting the gym too?

Butch: You bet. As if that’s not enough punishment, I also played a game of tennis, making the most of the sunshine.

Harry: Tennis? You’ve never mentioned you can play tennis all these years. It beats lifting weights inside some sweltering, sweaty gym, I suppose.

Butch: What do you know? When was the last time you stepped foot in a gym? Anyhow, I’m obviously a man of mystery. It’s true I don’t play a lot of tennis these days, but I used to play in the school team many moons ago.

Harry: Really? I’m surprised you still remember how to serve. I could never get the hang of tennis, I was much better at squash myself in my prime. Well, I was carrying less padding back then, which helped. So, what drove you to dust off your tennis racket?

Butch: There’s no dust, but I did find it stuck right in the back of a cupboard. Since you asked, one of my bosses challenged me to a game, that’s all.

Harry: Oh really? Isn’t that a little inappropriate? I hope you let him win.

Butch: It wasn’t my idea! After all, it’s only a game of tennis, not like we are sleeping together.

Harry: Not yet! But sounds like you have already thought about having your ways with him.

Butch: You’re incorrigible! Jason joined the firm end of last year from America and doesn’t know many people in this country yet. He was looking for someone to hit the ball with, and thought I came across more sporty than most in our IT office.

Harry: I see. Hopefully, you didn’t disappoint.

Butch: You have to ask him, but I think he enjoyed it. The score was quite close in the end, but his skill and experience gave him the winning edge. I bet he must have been a pretty formidable opponent in his younger years.

Harry: Younger years! You didn’t just get your arse whipped by a geriatric, did you?

Butch: Hardly! Jason must only be in his late fifties and built like an American football lineman. Despite his age, he moved around the court like an overgrown whippet, and he was really accurate with his shots. I can just about keep up with him, but couldn’t return enough winners to get ahead.

Harry: That’s probably for the best, since he’s your boss. Do you think he would like to have a rematch and give you a chance to redeem yourself?

Butch: Oh yes, he already said he likes to make it a regular thing.

Harry: Is that so? You might not score enough to win on the court, but must have scored highly in his good books.

Butch: We’ll see. After all, Jason is only one of the bosses and not someone I directly report to.

Harry: I understand, better that way. It must be awkward seeing your boss naked in the changing room after the game, I definitely wouldn’t like to see mine naked.

Butch: That’s what I thought too, but there’s nowhere else to look in that tiny space. Between you and me, if we met under different circumstances, I would probably make a move on him.

Harry: Oh really? Don’t tell me you have a crush on your chunky American boss.

Butch: God, no! It’s hard to believe, but I’ve never thought of him in that way in the office before. As you can imagine, after playing for nearly two hours, we were both drenched with sweat. We swiftly stripped off once inside the locker room, and I followed Jason to the showers. Somehow, I just couldn’t take my eyes off his big boss butt, wobbling at every step he took.

Harry: You’re such a perv. I hope you didn’t reach out and try to grab them.

Butch: I do have some self-control, as contrary to popular opinion. It’s worse in the showers, under the gushing water, his wet dirty blond fur over his chest, belly, and back, formed some shifting pattern leading my eyes directly to his crotch and arse every time I happened to look in his direction.

Harry: Nice! Did you offer to wash his hairy back? Nothing beats a wet bear in my book. Hopefully, you weren’t staring too intensely. He might get the wrong idea.

Butch: Of course not, but it was seriously difficult keeping blood from pumping into my cock.

Harry: I’m impressed you managed to keep that anaconda of yours under control. You’ll never know, he could take it as a compliment, but your job could be on the line if he didn’t.

Butch: Like you said, my job was on the line. If there’s one thing really I wish I didn’t see, it must be those enormous hairy balls of his, swinging loosely like a pendulum while he causally dried himself off. OK, that’s literally two things, I suppose.

Harry: Oh well, there are things you just can’t unsee. Typical straight men for you.

Butch: I would have already pranced on him if we were in a gay sauna. It was impossible to run into him around the office the last few days without picturing him naked.

Harry: Maybe he was picturing you in your birthday suit at the same time too.

Butch: That I won’t mind, especially if it’ll land me a promotion.

Dix: What’s that about a promotion, Butch? Here’s your beer. And one for you too, Harry.

Harry: Thanks, Dix.

Butch: Thanks for the beer. I was just kidding, there’s no promotion. You see, I played a game of tennis against my boss, that’s all. He won, fair and square, before you ask.

Harry: And he can’t get the naked image of his sexy boss out of his head.

Dix: I see. From what I heard, office romance mostly ends in tears.

Butch: Don’t you worry, I’ve no intension of it. More to the point, he could be happily married with kids, and sex with other men has never crossed his mind.

Harry: Something for you to find out after your next tennis game. Was the bar busy, Dix? You have been for a while.

Dix: It’s starting to, there’s a lot of hot, sweaty, and thirsty bears waiting to be served.

Butch: Just admit it, deep down you love being squashed between all those hot smelly bodies just like in the middle of a bear orgy.

Dix: I just want to get served, it’s too early for “a sweaty night of debauchery”.

Harry: Ha ha ha. Never too early for that, here’s a toast to a sweaty night of debauchery!

Butch: To a sweaty night of debauchery! And no boss allowed, no matter how sexy he is.

Dix: A sweaty night of debauchery! Fingers crossed, the rest of this summer won’t be a washed out, and we’ll have more warm summer nights.

Harry: I hope so too, and we can see you in a vest more often.

Dix: Honestly, I’m still not totally comfortable in this skimpy thing, but Trevor at the bar did notice my vest and said it suits me.

Butch: What a smooth operator? I hope you gave him a big tip.

Dix: I always do anyway. Not because he gave me a compliment, but good barmen like him are hard to find.

Harry: Being easy on the eye, obviously helps. We all know you fancy the pants off him.

Dix: What if I do? Ironically, he’s also wearing a vest today, and now that’s how a vest should be worn. Somebody tell me, why all the sexy men are already taken?

Butch: You would say that even if he was wearing a tent. But I’ve to agree with you, that vest did make him look like he had just walked out of someone’s wet dream or a porn shoot.

Harry: Isn’t he on the small side for you, Butch?

Butch: Sure, but I can appreciate a sexy guy, whether he’s my type or not.

Dix: When he was pouring our pints, I couldn’t help, but fixated on that big tuft of chest hair sticking out of his vest and his deep hairy armpits.

Butch: I bet you’ll love to bury your head in his sweaty pits and have a good sniff or lick.

Harry: Isn’t that what you love to make your fuck buddies do?

Butch: Sometime, but only as a treat. They couldn’t get enough whenever we meet after I’ve just been to the gym and haven’t showered yet.

Dix: Ugh! No, thank you. A little fresh sweat is nice, but it could get overpowering very quickly.

Butch: So you wouldn’t be smelling my used jockstrap as well, then?

Harry: You can be really disgusting when you put your mind to it.

Butch: I try my best. I, for one, love how my sweaty balls smell, and so do my fuck buddies.

Dix: Good for them. I’m surprised you haven’t bottled your stench, and tried to sell it to your fans.

Butch: I should do. I can just picture it: Who needs poppers? “Odeur de Butch” - the instant aphrodisiac, gets you hard every time!

Harry: Are you serious? It’ll probably sell better as tear gas or bear mace?

Butch: It’ll be useless as bear mace. In my experience, it usually attracts bears instead of repeals them, and leaves them all crazy horny. Seriously, all the celebrities are selling self-branded scents and fragrances these days. Why can’t I get in on the action too?

Harry: I’ve no idea who buys them. They are made from essentially the same few ingredients found in other deodorants, but charged ten times the price by simply named after someone famous. It’s not as if one will suddenly be as attractive as the celebrity after a few squirts.

Dix: But that’s the illusion, same as designer clothes.

Butch: You can fool me. Just look at men’s underwear, people only pay attention to the sexy model on the packaging, regardless of what’s actually inside. The bigger the bulge, the better it sells.

Harry: How very cynical of you? But there are probably some truths to it. Don’t forget, the expensive designer label must help, too.

Dix: We should start a line of underwear aims at the bear market and using big hairy guys with nice hanging bellies to model them. All the bear designer speedos are already doing it.

Butch: Do I qualify as a model? Or am I too muscular and not beary enough?

Dix: Are you kidding? Your nice furry gut and substantial bulge will certainly boost sales.

Harry: Do you really think people are really that shallow?

Dix: Deep down, we are nothing more than animals.

Butch: Yep. And this animal needs a piss. I hope my sweaty BO doesn’t attract too many unwanted attentions on my way to the gent.

Harry: Do you think you’re some kind of bear pied piper? Obviously, Dix and I must be immune to your spell, or pheromones.

Dix: So it’s actually you, I can smell? And I thought it was me!

Butch: Come closer and have a sniff to find out.

Harry: You better go. Otherwise, you’ll be stinking of piss, too.

Butch: So what? Do you know, there are guys who love the smell of piss? I know a few.

Harry: Of course, you do, but we’re not one of them.

Butch: You’re so Vanilla! I’ll be right back.

•••••

Dix: You know, Harry, I wouldn’t mind being as confident as Butch sometime.

Harry: Why? He just doesn’t take life seriously. You’re fine as you are, I’m sure Butch will agree.

Dix: You say all the right things, Harry. To be honest, I’m feeling a bit exposed wearing this vest, compared to my usual baggy clothes. It’s as if everyone is looking and judging me.

Harry: I won’t worry about it. You’re just being overly self-conscious. Didn’t even our sexy barman Trevor say you look good in it?

Dix: He did indeed. You might laugh about this, I caught a reflection of myself at the bar earlier on, and I’m pretty sure my armpits are not normally this hairy.

Harry: Seriously? You’re probably just not used to seeing yourself in a vest.

Dix: Or any other clothing. Mirrors are not my friend. By the way, am I smelling badly today?

Harry: What? I haven’t noticed. Who could tell in a room full of sweaty bears anyway? Even if you do, it’s not in a bad way. Definitely, nothing compared to, say, Butch’s ripe jockstraps.

Dix: You can say that again! Nothing in this world is as stinky as that.

Harry: Still, there are probably guys who will find it a huge turn on. Like you said, we’re all animals deep down, and smell is more important than sight for many creatures.

Dix: Yeah. Judging from experience, I do prefer how one guy smells over another. It must be the same reason why animals like dogs sniff each other all the time.

Harry: Pheromones are very powerful, and we’re all influenced by it consciously or subconsciously.

Dix: Maybe, but you wouldn’t find me sniffing a complete stranger’s crotch in public.

Harry: Me neither. Don’t mind me overshare, but Ian often claims he can pick me out in a crowd just from my scent. I guess he must have been a Labrador, or of the kind, in his past life.

Dix: Can he? We should put that to the test one day. Out of curiosity, do you think men from different parts of the world smell differently?

Harry: I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve given much thought about. Why do you ask?

Dix: Just wondering. I reckon they do.

Harry: Well, I’m no dermatologist, but won’t surprise me. I remember learning something about chemicals in sweat could vary with diet, and all the odour producing microbes living on our skin must vary a lot from place to place, so it’s quite likely.

Dix: Or could be genetic? That reminds me, one time I played with a Middle Eastern, possibly Arab, daddy bear and I swear he smelled like freshly brewed coffee with a hint of balsamic vinegar.

Harry: Doesn’t sound like a bad combination at all. Did you find him through some app?

Dix: Not this time. It happened a few years ago during a horticulture conference in Madrid.

Harry: I see. I believe many of them lived there, ever since Spain was conquered by the Moors from the Middle East once centuries ago, if I recall my history lessons correctly. That probably accounts for the dark, hairy features of their handsome men.

Dix: I don’t know much about Spanish history, just their bears are to die for.

Harry: Aren’t they just? Was the daddy bear a delegate at the conference?

Dix: No, it’s a long story. There was a free afternoon during the conference and after visiting a few of the touristy sights, I thought I’ll check out this gay sauna not far from my hotel, apparently very popular with bears.

Harry: Why not? I bet that’s not in your everyday tourist guide, unless it’s a copy of Spartacus.

Dix: Right. Even though I’m not normally a sauna person, I thought it would be a good way to get a flavour of the local bear scene.

Harry: And do a little “cultural exchange” with one or more hunky Spanish papi.

Dix: That wasn’t my intension, but I wouldn’t say no if the right one crossed by path.

Harry: This Arab daddy was obviously the right one then.

Butch: What’s this about “Arab daddy”? I thought you only go for white meat.

Dix: You’re back already? That’s a quick piss.

Butch: There wasn’t a queue, and I’ve strong bladder muscle. Imagine holding a fireman’s hose on full pressure, so it doesn’t take long to empty it.

Harry: I can do without the graphic details of your bodily function. Thank you.

Butch: So what have I missed?

Dix: Nothing much. I was just telling Harry about my trip to Madrid years ago for a conference before you rudely interrupted.

Butch: Oh, I’m sorry. Do carry on. I love Madrid, so many horny chubby Hispanic bears there.

Dix: You don’t say. There were hairy eye candies everywhere I looked during my few short days there. One afternoon, I even ventured into a bear sauna and tried my luck at scoring one.

Butch: Was it the “Laguna Aruba”? The one with a big pool and a roof terrace?

Dix: It’s been so long, I can’t remember the name, but it did have a pool and private terrace.

Butch: Yeah, it must be the same one. It’s where all the local bears go. Did you get gang banged by a group of hairy, well hung Spanish bears and left with a big grin on your face while their cum slowly leaked out of your well wrecked hole?

Dix: Was that what happened to you? That’s definitely not my experience, I spent most of my time just quietly observing.

Harry: Just ignore him, he’s being vulgar as usual. So, what’s the sauna like? I’ve never been, unlike Butch, who seems to know every single bear hangouts in the world.

Dix: It was late afternoon when I got there and the pool was quite busy already with a few groups of bears having fun splashing around. Instead of getting in the middle of it, I went for a nice soaking in a hot tub. A few bears were relaxing in the bubbling water, and I sat down next to a friendly looking polar bear. He has bullet-sized nipples, each pierced with a heavy silver ring, resting idly on top of his big furry belly bobbing above the water. He smiled and I smiled back.

Harry: That’s a promising start. By the way, how’s your Spanish?

Dix: Non-existent! I can manage a few phrases, but that’s about it. It’s pretty obvious I’m a tourist from my pale skin, I might as well have the word “tourist” tattooed on my forehead.

Butch: Are you kidding? You’re actually more tanned than many guys I know.

Dix: I suppose working outdoors most days helped, but I can never be as dark as the locals.

Harry: I don’t think your Arab daddy would mind whatever shade you are. Possibly, even prefer it.

Dix: Oh no, that’s not him in the tub, he’s someone else entirely. Anyway, after a few minutes of awkward silence, the polar bear tried to make a little polite conversation using his best English and I mostly just nodded to whatever he said. Out of the blue, I felt his meaty paw on my thigh. Since I didn’t show any objection to his advance, he started stroking it and kept on talking to me in broken English.

Butch: Sounded like you were enjoying it, too.

Dix: Honestly, I felt uneasy at first with other guys in the same hot tub. Soon enough, it’s pretty clear they weren’t at all interested at all, so I let the polar bear carry on. His hand gradually moved closer and closer to my loose balls and started massaging them before I knew it.

Harry: It must be fun having your balls played with underwater like that.

Butch: Yeah. And I bet your cock was like a fully extended a periscope peeking out of the water.

Dix: It’s difficult not to. Thankfully, it was impossible to tell with all the bubbles. We kept chatting, and suddenly, he gave me a wink when his hand felt something rock hard. With a firm grip on the shaft, he pulled my foreskin all the way down, and started doing this corkscrew twisting thing over my now exposed and swollen mushroom head. I really had to bite my lip and not moan too loudly from the pain and pleasure he was giving me.

Butch: Not his first time giving handjobs, then. I do that to my fuck buddies sometime, especially after they have cummed and become really sensitive. I hope you didn’t shoot your load in the hot tub and impregnate all the innocent bears inside.

Dix: Trust me, it was nearly impossible to hold back given his expert skills. All of a sudden, a friend of the polar bear, possibly his partner, called out to him and with simply a kiss and “Adiós”, he jumped out of the tub and was gone.

Harry: What? He didn’t finish you off? How inconsiderate of him!

Dix: That’s what I thought. I sat there for ages afterwards, until my cock was soft enough, before I felt comfortable getting out of the water.

Butch: I doubt anyone there would care if even you walk around with a raging hard on.

Dix: Maybe for a show-off like you, but not me.

Harry: You must have a bad case of blue balls. Did you find someone else to relief the strain?

Dix: Not for a while, unfortunately. I thought I’d try my luck next in the open terrace, and at least dry off a bit under the warm late afternoon sun.

Butch: Didn’t the architect do a good job with the terrace design? It wasn’t overlooked, but still has a good view of the city skyline.

Dix: Yeah, it was absolutely perfect. Sadly, all the loungers were taken when I got there, and I ended up sitting on one of the empty benches by the wall, admiring the scenery.

Butch: When you say “scenery”, you actually meant bears having sex, didn’t you? At least that’s what I did every time I was there.

Dix: Actually, most guys there were just enjoying the sunshine, but there were couples making out too. As far as I can recall, off to one side, there was a sexy silver fox laying on a lounger having his big cock serviced by a rather hefty cub. To be honest, given the chance, I wouldn’t mind playing with that silver fox too when the cub has finished.

Butch: Isn’t it incredible being able to get an all over tan in the centre of the city, while watching a free live sex show, and even enjoy a hot blowjob at the same time?

Harry: I bet those loungers must be somehow reinforced to take all the punishments dished out by countless big bears having sex on them.

Butch: I wouldn’t know, but people might think there’s an earthquake if the lounger gave way when a couple of bears were humping each other on it.

Dix: Especially if they’re the size of bears you normally go for. After people watching, and roasting under the hot sun for some time, I went back inside to rehydrate. The pool was still busy when I walked past, so I ventured into the cabins section for a quick look.

Butch: Just be honest, you were after a bit of spit-roasting by a couple of big local daddy bears.

Dix: I won’t stop them if they try, but not speaking any Spanish made it extra difficult.

Harry: But I’m sure you’re fluent enough in the language of love.

Dix: Speak for yourself! Down the corridor of cabins, all I could hear was a chorus of loud moaning and “Si. Si. Si!” from behind closed doors. I felt some doors were deliberately left ajar, in the hope of someone would watch, and possibly join in the action. A few doors were wide opened, mostly occupied by horny single guys waiting for someone to enter.

Butch: Yeah, and enter their well lubed up arseholes. You find that in gay saunas everywhere.

Dix: I’m obviously not as experienced with saunas and their etiquettes as you are.

Harry: Just ignore him, but Butch is right, the decorations and facilities might be different, but they are essentially the same, so are their clienteles. Guys there are only after one thing.

Dix: Obviously, I wasn’t that “one thing”. None of the solitary bears in their little, dimly lit cabins showed me any interests.

Butch: People are picky and always in the hope someone hotter will walk past next, so ended up not getting any. It’s the same with guys looking for sex online, I’m sure you know.

Dix: Of course. Well, I was about to give up and head back to the terrace when this big Arab looking bear with a huge black moustache lying on the makeshift bed in one of the last cabins gave me a once over and grinned.

Harry: Finally!

Dix: That’s how I felt, too. He stopped playing with his nipples and waved, signalling me to join him. Frankly, I was surprised to get a positive response from him because normally sexy bears like him are way out of my league.

Butch: Maybe he wasn’t wearing his glasses? But seriously, don’t sell yourself short, you’re no Quasimodo.

Dix: Is that a compliment I hear? By that time, my balls were aching so badly for release from the “desperately unfinished” handjob, on top of watching all the hot bear actions in the terrace, there’s no way in hell I was going to turn him down.

Harry: Does he look like some wealthy sultan or a character from 1001 Nights?

Dix: It’s hard to describe. Less of a sultan, but imagine a balding slightly overweight middle age Turkish oil wrestler with a thick carpet of dark body hair all over.

Harry: Sounded like you’ve struck gold with him, or even black gold in his case.

Dix: Sure thing. Even though he might not be my normal type, but there are always exceptions.

Butch: And you were dying for someone, or anyone, to play with your cock and make you cum.

Dix: There’s that, too. Once I was in the tiny cabin, I was hit by his musky man smell, and got stronger as I got closer to him. It wasn’t unpleasant, but unusual and rather intoxicating, kind of reminded me of roasted coffee and possibly with a balsamic vinegar undertone.

Butch: Nice, better than cheesy, used gym socks any day. I guess they eat a lot more exotic spices in Spain than we do, so it’s no surprise if they smell differently.

Dix: That’s what Harry said, too. Without getting up, the Arab bear pulled me towards him with one of his beefy hairy arms, and simultaneously undid my towel, leaving me standing naked in front of him with my cock hanging within touching distance of his face.

Butch: He knew what he was doing for sure. A man after my own heart.

Dix: I bet you have plenty of moves like that.

Butch: I’ve my moments. So, he was hungry for a bit of white sausage, then?

Dix: I guess so. He moved his prominent nose closer to my crotch and took a long sniff. “Sexy, Habibi” he said and started to nibble my foreskin before taking the rest of my cock in his mouth. His wet, meaty tongue tried to force its way inside the opening and began to lick the sensitive head within. Every second passed, more blood rushed inside my cock and in no time it was reaching all the way past his tonsils.

Harry: He must be one talented cocksucker.

Dix: Definitely, not his first time. Periodically, he even managed to force my mushroom head all the way down his throat for some deep throating.

Butch: Isn’t that a wonderful feeling?

Dix: For him or me? I certainly wasn’t complaining, and he seemed to enjoy himself, so much so his cock was pitching a big tent under his towel.

Harry: I hope you returned the favour and gave his cock a good sucking.

Dix: It was too difficult in that position, but he seemed happy just giving oral service instead of receiving any. I just let him get on with it.

Harry: Fair enough. Did he have a nice cock?

Dix: Good god, yes. I was amazed when his towel slid eventually off, to see hiding underneath was literally a beer can thick shaft tapering past the faint circumcision scar to a shiny deep pink cock head. It was nearly impossible to get my hand around it, and I reckon I would struggle to get its thickest part pass my lips.

Harry: Wow! That’s impressive! You don’t see one like that every day.

Butch: Surely, you would love to take up the challenge. I know I would.

Dix: I was enjoying his oral skills too much to worry about doing anything else. The Arab bear was so good at sucking cock, he got me quite close to cumming only within minutes, but I wanted to hold out a bit longer, so I turned around and bent over showing him my butt. Without any hesitation, he duly buried his face in my arse, started licking away and sticking his tongue into my tight hole as far as it could reach. Whenever he shifted his head, his moustache and course stubbles would scratch and stimulate my hole, sensing shivers all over my body.

Butch: He must be seriously hungry. Hopefully, you have picked up some rimming tips from him.

Dix: I would need a lot more practice before getting as good as him. As if eating my arse was not enough, he also pulled my dangling balls back past my thighs and sucked on them too.

Harry: Sounds like he couldn’t get enough of his mid-afternoon snack.

Dix: You don’t say. I dare not touch my throbbing cock while he was servicing my arse, just in case I spontaneously shot my load prematurely. But I was fighting a losing battle, it was absolutely impossible to hold back much longer.

Butch: Hopefully, you didn’t waste all his efforts and blow your jizz all over the floor instead of into his hungry mouth.

Dix: Oh no! I turned in the nick of time and managed to thrust my rock-hard cock back in his mouth. He obviously knew I was close and started rubbing the base of my mushroom head with his tongue. That’s the last straw, he made me cummed so hard I was literally seeing stars. Eventually, he let go of my cock after lapping up and swallowing every last drop of cum I had to offer.

Harry: I bet he loved it as much as you did.

Dix: Judging from the amount of precum pouring out of his monster cock, he must have. Using it as lube, he jerked that beer can size cock feverishly, and started moaning in words I don’t understand. I noticed his huge erect nipples were poking out of his dark carpet like chest hair, and couldn’t help biting down on one while squeezing the other. As if I had pressed the right buttons, he immediately sprayed thick pearly white cum over his dark furry stomach and possibly some landed on my hair too.

Butch: Who needs hair gel when you can use bear cum?

Dix: Trust me, the stench of his cum mixed with his sweaty body odour was simply impossible to describe. My head remained rested on his hairy chest, inhaling this unique smell until he eventually recovered from his intense orgasm. Before I left him, he gave me a kiss tasting strongly of my own cum, before closing his eyes for a nap in that cosy cabin, possibly waiting for the next willing sperm donor to appear.

Butch: I’m glad to hear you got your money’s worth at the sauna. Did you play with any other bears after him while you were there?

Dix: I did cruise around a little afterwards, but by then my balls were happily drained, and I started to feel hungry, so I left for some food.

Harry: Well, I know where Ian and I are going for our city break next time.

Butch: You two will have a great time in Madrid, so much to see and do, and I don’t just mean the Spanish bears. So, is this my round? I should have it on my way back from the gents.

Dix: I won’t worry about it, but I can do with another beer after talking so much. I hope my mini sauna adventure wasn’t too boring for you.

Butch: There’s nothing mini about it. It’s always fun to hear other people’s horny encounters.

Harry: Since you’re offering, a cold beer will be most welcomed. Thanks, Butch.

Butch: No problem. I’ll be right back with your beers.