My wife, Daisy, and I were walking down Castro Street in San Francisco. There was a restaurant my wife wanted to check-out. It was a bright and sunny Fall day. I paused momentarily to take-in the impressive window display of one store - fancy men's underwear erupting from the end of a really-really large dildo. I was about to point it out to my wife, when an effeminate little man approached her...

"Daisy!?!" He exclaimed in apparent disbelief.

My wife yelled-out, "BILLY!" And embraced him.

There was a gushing tumble of words from both - "OMG! How long has it been? Really!?! That long? You look great! Where are you living now? What are you doing here? Gosh, can you believe it's been that long?" Etc-etc-etc.

Billy was a little guy - five foot eight, and surely not more than a buck and a half. He was fit as fuck too, and because he was checking me out I sucked in my gut. He was wearing checkerboard Van's slip-ons, cutoff denim shorts and a t-shirt and ballcap.

Eventually, I was introduced. He surprised me with a vice-like handshake - I'd expected a limp-wristed grip.

Phone numbers and emails were exchanged. Social media aliases revealed. Promises were made to get together soon... and we each went our separate ways.

After a block I asked, "How do you know Billy?"

"We used to fuck," Daisy said, "Long time ago."

"Really?" I said - surprised, "He doesn't seem like your type."

My wife looked at me, "Why? Because he's gay?"

"No," I said - carefully, "Because he's so..."

"What?"

"Slight," I said, "He's a little dude, sweetheart."

"Yeah, well..." She hesitated, "I'm not surprised he turned-out to be gay."

"Why?"

"Because he wouldn't go down on me and he loved getting pegged," Daisy said.

"I like getting pegged," I said.

"Yes, but you're not gay," Daisy said.

"How do you know?"

"The way you eat pussy... a girl can tell!"