He reached out and began unbuttoning Mikey’s shirt. Mikey closed his eyes.
George took his time. With each button, more of Mikey’s hairy front was revealed, plush and enticing. George parted the shirt like a curtain, combing his fingers through the dark curls, finding a nipple and gently feeling its tip, as if reading braille.
Mikey remained frozen like a statue, eyes closed.
George unzipped Mikey’s jeans, reached in, and pulled him from the fly folds of his underwear. He recognized the same thick flesh he had seen on his phone the previous week. The foreskin was pulled taut on the round, swollen head of his cock, its slit seeping and slick. He squeezed it from underneath, weighing it in his palm as if giving a firm handshake. When he looked up, he saw that Mikey’s eyes had opened.
“Hey, sexy,” George said, leaning in for a kiss. Mikey fell into it, but then cut short, stepping back.
“Are you OK?” George asked.
He nodded. “I’m more than OK. We just need to do something different... or I’m gonna pop.”
“It’s OK, Mikey. That’s the goal, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, tucking himself back into his underwear, “But I don’t want it to end that fast.”
“OK. What doyouwant to do?”
Mikey sat down on the sofa. “I want to sit here a minute. Maybe... maybe you could undress for me.”
George raised his eyebrows. “OK,” he said, smiling. He reached and turned the desk lamp on, then flipped the wall-switch for the overhead lights off.
“Why’d you do that?”
“To tell the truth, I’m a little nervous. I don’t exactly have a gym body, Mikey.” He pinched at his belly through his shirt. “See that?”
“I want to see more of it.”
“You’re driving.”
He began unbuttoning his shirt, all the while watching Mikey’s eyes fixed. When the shirt fell, he lifted the tuck of his undershirt, giving Mikey a glimpse of his belly button and the swirl of light brown hair surrounding it.
He continued lifting the undershirt over his shoulders and head before tossing it aside. He stood there for a moment, giving him a good look, letting him observe that he too was hairy, a little overweight, and not perfect. He rubbed his chest, hands circling his pecs before lowering past his stomach to his jeans.
Mikey took a deep breath.
George undid the first button.
“No. Wait. Can I?”
George held up his hands, complying. Mikey scooted closer, reaching out and undoing the rest of the button-fly. When he had the jeans open wide, he lowered them to the floor. He pawed at the elastic band of George’s tighty-whities and pulled them down as well.
George’s cock hung free inches away from Mikey’s face. It was a little shadowed, the desk lamp being behind him, but Mikey could still make out the shape, short and thick, lengthening to escape the confines of its foreskin. Mikey held it in his fingers, mostly erect, but still pliable. He lifted, examining it from different angles.
“Well, doctor. What’s the prognosis?” George asked.
“It’s beautiful—the shape, the size, everything. Just like you, George—beautiful.”
George began to protest, but Mikey opened his mouth and took him inside, swallowing him whole, wet and warm, his face nuzzling into the nest of his groin. His hands fell to Mikey’s broad shoulders for support. When Mikey pulled back, he did it slowly, savoring every centimeter as George’s swelling shaft slid across his soft tongue. His lips closed at the tip, not releasing completely, sucking the head gently before descending again.
George groaned. He was panting staccato.
Mike reached around to the fuzzy globes of his ass cheeks and pulled him deeper, again burrowing into his crotch.
“Now, I’m the one that’s going to pop. Maybe we should both slow down.”
But Mikey wasn’t having it. He squeezed at George’s cheeks, fingers slipping deeper into the crevice there, while his tongue slid restlessly at the sensitive underside of George’s cock, lips contouring tight.
