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He’s hard—as hard as I am.
I feel it through his skinny jeans.
Is this the first time he’s ever gotten hard with another guy? Or has he simply ignored all his male-inspired boners, writing it off as something that “happens to all guys”, like everything else he’s so flippantly written off?
I’m so hard that my entire crotch is starting to ache.
I feel like my balls are so swollen, they could burst.
I’ve never come from dry-humping, but with as charged up as I am right now, I feel like I just might experience it if we don’t stop what we’re doing soon.
He pulls away and gets a look at me. “Bobby, I don’t know if—”
“It’s okay,” I tell him without even hearing what he was going to say. “We can just do whatever you want. We don’t have to rush anything, or feel pressure to do anything else, or even—”
“I’m havin’ such a great time just kissing the fuck out of you.”
“Me too,” I agree. Our hands are all over our lower backs still, pulling our crotches firmly against one another on the bed.
“I’ve never thought of guys sexually before,” Jimmy admits as his eyebrows pinch together. “I mean, I don’t think I have. I don’t really fantasize or anything. I don’t know what I’m doin’.”
“Other than kissing the fuck out of me.”
“Are you sure this is okay?” I’ve never heard Jimmy sound so worried or panicky before. “I mean, what if this is all we do? What if all we do is kiss for hours? Is this totally fucking lame?”
“Jimmy, only do what you want. Don’t worry about anything else at all. Just do what feels good.”
“This feels really fuckin’ good.”
“Then let’s keep—”
Jimmy doesn’t let me get the words out before he’s on my lips once more, right where he belongs. And I melt all over again, my heart surging and my stomach dancing with excitement—and my swelling, hard cock throbbing.
I’ve never wanted to burst in my pants as badly as I do now.
I do realize how much of an unnecessary mess that’d make, and I really don’t fucking care. I have this painful, crushing feeling inside that what I’m experiencing is a once-in-a-lifetime, fleeting moment of opportunity that, if missed, I’ll never have again.
I need to seize this moment.
My hand slowly slides down his muscled, sinewy back until a finger touches the top of his jeans. Then I push my bravery to the max, invite my fingers onto the round, supple, tight denim landscape of Jimmy’s ass.
And I give him one firm, experimental squeeze.
“Mmm …” he moans against my lips.
Wow.
I think he likes it.
I give his ass another finger-curled, palm-of-my-hand, oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this squeeze—and yet again, he moans.
Is he encouraging me? Should I keep going?
Then Jimmy catches me off-guard as he shifts his body, rolls on top of me, and caresses my face as he deepens the kiss.
With his weight over me, our crotches are inevitably united, and his muscular, lean body is pressed against mine. Jimmy owns every bit of me now, trapping me against his bed with his long and powerful body, his strong arms, his caressing fingers, his lips.
And I’ve still got his ass in the palm of my hand.
Maybe he’s giving me access to all of it.
While he continues to pin my face against his with his breath-stealing, all-devouring lips, both my hands start to massage and rub his meaty ass, every inch of it, every curve of Jimmy Strong’s perfect buns that I’ve lusted over for years and years and years.
I’m not me. I can’t possibly be me.
I’ve never been allowed into the land of Jimmy Strong’s body.
Not like this, with free rein and total abandon.
Following an instinct, my hands slide up his hips, then slowly start to drag his shirt up with them. My fingers touch his smooth, silky skin now, drawing his shirt up even more, exposing his lithe, long, smooth back.
When his shirt is tugged up halfway up his torso to his chest, Jimmy follows the lead by lifting off of me to allow the shirt over his head and off his arms, where it’s then flung away, never to be heard of again, and he’s on my lips once more.
But shirtless now.
Good Lord, Jimmy, and it ain’t even my birthday.
My hands patiently glide up and down his back, exploring it from underneath his body. I feel his stomach billow out against mine with his every hot, labored breath as he kisses me—and feels the soft touch of my fingertips along his back. I imagine the chills of excitement I must be giving him as I drag my fingers along his skin, exploring him in a way I’ve never been allowed to before.
My hands catch on the rim of his pants. I tease my fingertips underneath, caressing the waistband of his tight, soft briefs. With gentle, rubbing strokes, my fingers slowly find their way in, sliding as best as they can inside his tight jeans.
