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I lift an eyebrow. “My shorts, too?”
“You don’t free-ball like I do,” he points out. “So my shorts are basically my underwear. It’s only fair.”
I don’t know what it is about Stefan’s cocky, challenging tone that triggers my own inner competitive spirit, but it works. In an instant, I’m my old self again. I confidently grip the waistband of my shorts, then thrust them down, revealing my red briefs, and lift my chin in victory.
He watches, then smirks with amusement.
I step out of them and, just like my shirt, I fold them in half and set them on my desk, too.
And still, Stefan watches me from the pillow, his face half-buried, his eyes hovering at my underwear.
I don’t know if it’s the uninterrupted, unabashed attention that I’m getting from him, or the excitement of completely taking off my clothes and revealing myself to him, but my cock won’t calm down. It is throbbing inside my underwear, achingly so.
Stefan’s eyes do one quick appraisal of my body before that all-too-familiar cocky grin spreads over his face. “I hope you put your money where your mouth is with this massage.”
I help myself to a generous squirt of lotion from a bottle by my bed, then give my hands a couple preparatory claps.
He chuckles. “That your jerking lube?”
“Lotion,” I answer. “Vanilla-scented. For your vanilla ass.”
Stefan lets out a hoot over his pillow. “Oooh … Ryan’s found himself an attitude. I see how it is.”
I grin. “Now shut your ass up and let me turn you into muscle mashed potatoes.”
“Bring it,” he grunts, then gives his butt a little wiggle.
I smirk, confidence renewed, and hop right back onto the bed, straddling his back, then bring my lotion-coated hands to his bare shoulders.
His skin is as hot as fire.
Blood’s pumping through both our veins, filling us with every damned emotion between terror and desire, assuming Stefan’s experience is anything like mine right now.
I work his muscles just as I did on the couch, except now I get the added advantage of gravity being my friend. I press my weight into him as I knead and push and dig, working my way slowly down to his lower back and the top of his grand, muscular ass, against which my desperate, pre-cum-wetted cock—now fully and achingly erect—is pressed.
And yeah, I’m pretty much soaking my briefs with pre-cum. I can’t help it. I’m so turned on right now and insane with horniness that even my dick is crying tears of agony.
The more I push my slick palms into his firm back, the more confidence I discover. I keep working lower and lower until I have to scoot down, straddling his legs instead of his back.
As my slippery hands keep descending, they start to drag his shorts along with them until I get a surprising first, glorious peek of his crack.
That makes me arrive at the question: Stefan has fully agreed to get a naked massage of his back, but did that include his ass, too?
Are we comfortable enough yet to progress there?
I’m staring up at the backside of his head, my hands pressing and working the muscles at the lowest part of his back, right on the cusp of sliding down to his perfect, beautiful, awaiting butt.
I’ve already accidentally pushed his shorts down an inch or two, loose as they are. Isn’t that basically like knocking at the door?
Other than my swollen cock literally doing just that every time I flex the damned thing.
I can’t hold back much longer. Curiosity is a pair of hands I can’t see, and they guide my wrists, pulling, pulling, pulling, until my palms cover the sides of either of his sweet, firm cheeks.
And the shorts drag farther down with them.
More ass. More beautiful butt crack.
Yeah, I’ve put a hand to his ass countless times before—but never like this.
The best part is that he doesn’t object. In fact, he doesn’t even flinch as my hands continue to rub his cheeks in firm, slow circles and gently reveal the flesh to me as the shorts come with them. I work the sides right where they dimple, feeling the hardened cords of muscle in his upper legs and hips. Then, after what seems like hours, my massage moves to the more bountiful meat of his ass which I had expected to be softer. Nope; firm and strong as a slab of meat from a butcher’s.
His shorts are down to the bottom of his butt now. Both cheeks are completely exposed.
And there isn’t a speck of fat on this athletic warrior.
I’m almost jealous. Shit. If I had joined him in college and chased a dream of baseball stardom, would I have a body like this?
Right in the middle of my impromptu ass massage, he grunts the words: “Fuck, that feels so good.”
I don’t respond. I only stare at the back of his head still sunk deep into that pillow and let my mind wander.
