Lately, I’ve been fantasizing about Maxwell Roth. I’m not sure whether I want to have that nice and loving sex where he’ll nip my neck and collar bone with my back arched under him, or that rough and chaotic fucking where I allow his insanity to escape onto my body right on the damn stage of his famous theatre. My arms pinned above my head underneath him, maybe they’re tied with rope where it can rub against my wrists and he can lick my wounds later with a wild grin.