One day, I was sitting in Keith’s suite. Marlon was asleep in my arms, the TV was blasting, and Keith was nodding out on the couch. He was wearing cutoff blue jeans, and as he began to nod, he started to get an enormous hard-on which started to peek out of the bottom of his shorts. Suddenly, I was glad that Marlon was asleep. Now I could watch this Eighth Wonder of the World. It was amazing. I don’t think anybody realized it, because Bill Wyman usually grabbed the honors in this department, but Keith was the member of the Rolling Stones who was particularly well endowed. He was impressive to say the least. Oh my God! He had a hard-on parallel to his knee for a solid twenty minutes. Then, as his erection started to subside, it ducked perfectly back under his jeans. Many men are incapable of achieving even the slightest tumescence under the influence of drugs – that’s one of its many curses. Keith clearly had no such problems. I just sat there smiling, reflecting what a blissful moment I was sharing with him. Unfortunately, that was the sum of my sexual contact with Keith Richards.