“Let me say this before I lose my nerve,” Adam said. “I’m ready for us to be together. That’s what I dreamed the other night, that you were in me, and it felt amazing. And then I awakened, and my Jockeys were soaked, and I had this dumb idea to mail them to you.”
Matt grinned stupidly. Now he knew what was in that package. His cock was achingly hard, straining against the confines of his boxer briefsand his jeans.
“What are you wearing?” Adam asked. His voice was one-part silky, two-parts shaky. He was outside his comfort zone.
“Jeans and a hoodie.”
“Take them off,” Adam said, “before I change my mind. Shoes and socks, too. Strip down to your underwear and then open the package.”
Matt jumped to his feet. Kicked off his shoes and socks. Shimmied out of his jeans. Shed the hoodie. If stripping were an Olympic sport, he’d have medaled.
“Done,” Matt said. He cradled the phone between his shoulder and chin. “I’m opening the package now.”
He ripped away the tape, pried open the box. Retrieved a pair of white Jockeys with a scaly, crusty smear coating the front. Adam must have had one hell of a wet dream!
Matt pressed the Jockeys to his nose, inhaled deeply. Flakes of dried cum fluttered to the floor like snow.
Matt rotated the Jockeys to find the part that would have been nearest Adam’s hole, sniffed it—doglike, lip curled. He swallowed around a lump in his throat. This was the closest he’d come to Adam’s Sanctum Sanctorum, his Holy of Holies. He had never yet seen Adam fully naked.
“It was a dumb idea, wasn’t it?” Adam asked. “Nothing says ‘Thinking of You’ like soiled undies.”
Matt shushed him. “I’m hard, baby. Standing here in my tented briefs. You have this effect on me. Is there more to your plan? Phone sex? Or did you want to give me blue balls and then hang up?”
Adam’s voice was soft and shy. “I wanted to hear you masturbate.”
“Join me,” Matt urged. “We could cum together.”
Adam was mortified. “You do remember that I’m on the couch in our living room, right? Same couch that’s covered by the Afghan my grandma crocheted. There’s no way I’m gonna squirm around on grandma’s Afghan, staining it with cum and having my parents walk in on me with my dick in my hands! No thank you. You go ahead. I’ll enjoy listening.”
There was no use arguing. Matt slipped out of his boxer briefs. His boner sprang up and slapped against his belly. He retrieved his hidden lube, then lay down on the bunk, pictured Adam lying there beside him.
Matt caressed his cockhead lightly. “I’m on my side. You’re next to me. We’re kissing and grinding our cocks together.”
“Don’t make me hard,” Adam pleaded.
“I reach down and curl my hand around both our cocks, stroking them.” Matt’s fingers slid down his shaft, then grazed their way back up. He moaned softly. “I’m kneading our cocks together. They are slick with pre-cum.”
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Adam half panted. “Getting me worked up so I have to join you.”
“You drape one leg around me,” Matt purred into the phone, still stroking himself. “I trace a finger up the back of your thigh, slide it between your ass cheeks, searching for your sphincter. There’s a lot of hair.”
“How would you know if it is hairy?” Adam asked.
“I’ve seen you in your Jockeys,” Matt said. “You have beautiful, downy fur all the way up your thighs. I saw a bit of briar patch poking out of the top of your Jockeys.”
“Is that a bad thing? A hairy hole?”
“I think they’re sexy as fuck,” Matt said.
“Go on.” Adam’s voice was husky.
“I ease you onto your back. I spread and bend your legs, cracking you open. I make you hold your ankles.”
Matt adjusted the phone in his ear. Closed his eyes to better imagine the seduction. Continued working his cock.
“I move to the end of the bed. Use my hands to pry your cheeks further apart, get my first glimpse of your little buttonhole. Lower my head. Your briar patch tickles my chin and nose. Your musk is intoxicating. I flick my tongue across your pink sphincter. You shudder.”
Adam was breathing hard now. Matt guessed he had a hand inside his pajamas.
