In fogged neon interiors, Bad Bunny and Bryant Myers confess their desires to their muses. It’s all verbal foreplay, sexuality conveyed through the power of masculine confession. The sexual tension heightens as the rhythm embeds itself deeper and deeper and deeper…
Because there’s no other point to life, right? You know we live in a post-truth world where sky-high eroticism gets mistaken for chivalric romanticism. Because of that [above].
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