Anthony liked Nimbo a lot. Everybody did — or at least women did. Nimbo was lightly tattooed for a cholo, and he had neat hair and dimples you could wash a car in. He was muscular but not huge or bulgey — he played on a soccer team, a real one. He had thighs like crazy, an ass as hard as granite, with a pair of giant cheeks that looked too big for his frame.
And he always wore cologne. He smelled great. Anthony blushed whenever Nimbo was around. He had an aura of desire, radiating charisma like the sun. He moved like he needed to use all of his muscles just to take a step. Anthony had trouble not staring at him, watching the curves of his body. Luckily Nimbo was drinking and distracted by the woman, so he didn’t notice Anthony’s relentless stare.