6:10 a.m. I wake up the way I went to sleep: nothing on, cock against my stomach, already half hard and pleased with itself. Morning wood is my favourite alarm. I don't get up straight away. I lie there and let it press and throb and argue, and I have a whole conversation with it about how we're going to behave today. 6:30. Water. Every day. The lake if the weather's kind, the shower if it isn't. Water is the only thing that resets me. I stand in it until my skin goes warm and my head goes quiet. 7:15. Oil. Everywhere, slowly, with the flat of my hand, so it doesn't turn into anything yet. Just care. Knees, hips, stomach, that low smooth place where the hair isn't. I'm hairless by choice and by preference — I like being a blank page. 9:00. Garden. Naked, barefoot, filthy within the hour. My tomatoes are doing better than my neighbours' and I'd like to think it's because of what they've seen. 12:30. Lunch, standing up, in the kitchen, juice running down my wrist. And then — the appointment. I don't always come. Sometimes it's twenty minutes of edging with the sun coming through the window and nothing on. But it happens every day. It's not a treat, it's a schedule. 4:00. Mirror time. This is the vanity hour. I put music on and move in the mirrors and look at myself the way someone else would. Front, side, over the shoulder. It's the closest thing I do to worship. 7:00. Cook something that takes too long. Light the candles, because why not, because no one's watching and that's the whole point. 10:30. Shower again. Bed, naked, lotion, one hand resting low because that's where it goes. Scroll, laugh, yawn. Then the second appointment, which is longer and lazier and better. 11:15. Asleep on my back with my cock out of the covers, like a boy who left the door open on purpose. That's it. That's the life. Sixteen hours of skin and about ninety minutes of it spent in the best way a person can spend it.