“Take off your clothes? Absolutely.” I unbutton my dress shirt and toss it aside.
“Nice body,” he remarks, openly admiring me. “I bet you don’t even have to work out all that much.”
I swim and run and lift weights in my home gym, but I have my mother’s natural slenderness to thank for my trim physique. “Not much, but it’s not your fault, Adam. You come from peasant stock.”
“Hey,” he says as if offended but there’s a dopey smile on his face that is likely the result of his high kicking in.
“It means you’re a survivor. Your ancestors were the heartiest of them all, able to withstand malnutrition and disease. The women down your line bore sturdy young men to toil in the fields or lay bricks or go to war for spoiled rotten lords like me. My DNA would crumple under the slightest duress, but your genetics will endure. Here, let me help you with that.” He’s been working on the same button for at least five minutes.
I approach and slowly draw his hands away so that I can take over undressing him. He sighs with deep satisfaction and leans back, exposing his throat to me.Adam’s apple. I admire that little knob and find the name entirely apropos. It would seem he likes this sort of intimate care, and happily, I do too. I stay on task, revealing more and more of his naked skin with each button until the whole of his torso is laid bare. Broad shoulders taper to a narrow waist in a masculine shape I find oh so alluring. I tug his shirt tails out of his slim-fit jeans and push the folds of material away.
“I don’t know how you do it,” he murmurs.
“What’s that?”
“Make an insult sound… ahhh,” he says as I brush my knuckles against his perfect shell-pink nipples. They form stiff peaks against the rounded mounds of his pectorals. “That feels gooood.” He rubs his arm again, then drags one hand along the back of his neck and lower, tracing along the cleft between his pecs, caressing his toned abdominals. He’s smooth everywhere, a perfectly sculpted Ken doll. “I want to be on this drug all the time.”
I peel back the fabric from his shoulders and trace along his arms, squeezing his veined biceps to gauge his muscle tone—compact and firm everywhere. Goosebumps break out across his chest, and he shivers from the night air.
“Sensitive,” I remark, admiring the way his nipples pebble from the sensation.
“I haven’t worked out today.” He attempts to shield his perfect body from my view. “Just a run this morning. I probably look like a cow.”
“You look gorgeous,” I tell him and get to work on his pants. The button comes undone easily enough, though it’s much harder to maneuver the zipper over his erection. His briefs are tight and white like what a little boy would wear, but his cock has the length and girth of a full-grown man. If I were a size queen, I’d be in heaven. I draw one finger under the elastic waistband where his skin is warm to the touch. “I’m taking these off too.”
He nods, sucking in his lower lip, and stares at me in a trance. “Okay.”
I have no doubt I could have sweet, persuadable Adam bent over a lawn chair and be plowing into his tight hairless hole in a matter of minutes. That would be fine if this were a one-and-done sort of deal, but Adam is the type to be courted, to be wooed. So, I ignore his swollen prick for now and drag his jeans down to his ankles, taking his underwear along with them. His cock slaps his belly indiscreetly then arcs upward from his closely shaved pubis, probably a job requirement. Two healthy, bouncing testicles, also smooth, bolster his prick. I should have known he’d be pleasant to look at all over.
“Get into the tub,” I say sharply, lest he tempt me anymore.
“Yes, sir,” he says with a goofy smile and climbs into the water. I admire his ass, the indent of muscle on the outside of his juicy buttocks, a perfect place to grip when I top him. Not tonight, though. Tonight is for building rapport and getting to know him better. What does he want? What does he need? I discard my boxer briefs on the concrete, and he pays a similar sort of attention to my nakedness as I join him in the steaming pool. He obviously lusts for the male form, a very good sign.
“You’re so handsome,” he says with a touch of envy as his gaze drifts from my shoulders to my hairy chest and lower before meandering again to my eyes. “Tall, dark, and handsome.”
“I’m plain. Forgettable.”
“You arenotforgettable,” he says with a gorgeous smile. “Your name is Cassius Peacock. How could anyone forget that?”
“Peacock is my middle name. Isn’t that ridiculous? Who gives their son a middle name like Peacock?”
“Your mother did.”
“Yes, she was very silly.”
“There’s something about you though. You’re… different.”
He’s not wrong.
“I bet you tell that to all your sweethearts,” I tease.
He laughs. “No, I don’t. But my sweethearts don’t usually offer me drugs and invite me into their hot tubs.”
“Then they are doing it all wrong,” I lean toward him, enjoying his flirtatious side. His eyes flutter as though preparing to be kissed, and I’m tempted to do just that. “Now that I have you here,” I whisper, “tell me all your secrets.”
He smiles and runs his tongue across his teeth. “I don’t have any secrets.”
“Of course, you do. Everyone has secrets. Tell me, when did you lose your virginity?”
