International Cartola's Midnight Sanitarium
In the pulsating heart of the city, a lone figure, Carlos Frozoni, the international cartola, prowls the streets under the cloak of darkness. Drawn to the dimly lit alleyway, he pushes open the heavy door of the public restroom, the scent of disinfectant and sex filling his nostrils. He's not alone. A young, eager homo-sapiens, eyes wide with anticipation, awaits him in the shadows. Carlos, a seasoned veteran of such encounters, smirks, his eyes locked onto the young man's crotch. He steps closer, his voice a low growl, "You know why I'm here, don't you?" The young man nods, his breath hitching as Carlos reaches out, tracing the outline of his erection through his jeans. The restroom echoes with their heavy breathing, the sound of their zipper's descent, and the wet, sucking noises that follow, as Carlos Frozoni introduces the young homo-sapiens to the pleasures of the night.