‘I remember,’ says August Cooper, the weathered lines of his face framing a red-rimmed stare. His lips are pulled back a little, exposing the tips...of his teeth. It’s a face he often makes, grimacing out the final fragile years he has on this planet. He glances over at me, but I only nod. I’m waiting for him to continue, because I want to hear it. Because I believe him. ‘I remember the trains.’ He looks down at his hands, or at the cup of coffee he’s holding in them. I can’t tell which. His. After about an hour of chatting with many of the black men, Ana told me she was ready for tasting a good black cock…The lucky guy she selected was slender and very well built and endowed. We made our way to the second floor playroom, but I was told to wait outside as the two of them got to know one another a little better. It felt like hours as I stood by the door and waited. After about ten minutes, I went back down stairs for a glass of red wine as they played. When I returned, all I could. More

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