Regret. I'm a man living with regret. It eats at me night and day. Eights years ago, I ran from Reagan instead of facing the music. I was sure he would shut me out if he knew the truth, so I beat him to the punch. I left and never looked back. Or at least I tried not to. To this day, Reagan is always in the back of my mind, trying to make me remember the fun we had. I always wonder what he would have thought if I'd told him everything. The regret echoes in my head. Now he's standing in front of me, looking for answers I doubt he's ready for. Can Reagan accept me for who I really am? Warning: Contains sexual situations between two men.
Ride Me | 
