All Male Fiction: The House Painters

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

 

The one good thing about living in Houston, Texas, which is very hot and humid during the summer, is that men tend to strip off their shirts whenever the opportunity presents itself; so, there is a lot of eye candy to look at, and that makes a good trade-off for living in such a hot and humid city.

One summer morning, I changed into my bike shorts and hopped on my bike and started peddling around the neighborhood. I had been riding for about an hour when I drove by a house that had a For Sale sign out front, and a couple of guys painting the outside of it.

Both of the painters looked to be in their mid-twenties, and both were working without shirts on, wearing just shorts and shoes. Both were tanned and well-built. I wouldn't have kicked either guy out of bed, and checking them out caused a stirring inside my bike shorts. I almost hit the curb looking at them.

After averting a header over the handlebars and preparing to get my bike back in motion, I noticed there was a pickup truck with deep purple metallic paint backed in the driveway with a For Sale sign taped to the windshield. I wasn't in the market for a vehicle, but I decided that pretending to be interested and going up and taking a look at it would give me the perfect opportunity to get a closer look at the hot studs that were painting the house.

"Can I help you?" the one guy called over when he saw me there.

"I just noticed the For Sale sign while passing by; just taking a look, thanks," I replied.

I took a good look at the truck to look convincing as to why I was there and was about to get back on my bike and ride off when the guy called out to the other one, "Yo, Mike, there's some guy interested in your truck."

The other guy came jogging over to the driveway.

"Hi, I'm Mike," he said with a smile once he arrived in front of me. "You interested?" he asked.

God, was I interested, but not in his truck! The man was even more gorgeous up close. Of course, I indicated I was interested, saying that I had no vehicle and was tired of peddling my bike around town, and he started telling me about the truck, which afforded me the opportunity to take a good look at his body.

He was about five-foot-eight, had dark brown hair, a naturally smooth chest, tanned skin, and was sporting a six-pack as well as a couple of tattoos. Other than baggy cut-off shorts riding low on his hips, he was not wearing any other clothes except tennis shoes without socks. He also had specs of white paint all over him which made him look even sexier.

This guy could really chatter on and on but he finally came to a pause in his long-winded sales pitch and said, "I gotta tell you dude, if you end up buying my truck, don't give up on the cycling; it's obviously gotten you, and kept you, in great shape, and you wouldn't want all that hard work to go down the drain."

I knew that his comment was purely innocent, just a guy in good shape complimenting another guy who was also in good shape, and not a come-on, but I decided to be kind of bold in my response and said, "Thanks. Cycling is great for the legs and butt, but you've got an amazing chest. Wish mine looked as good as yours."

He grinned and then did that thing bodybuilders do where they make their pecs jump.

"Wow, that's amazing. How do you do that?"

"It's not hard; anyone can do it if they do the right weight training to develop those muscles," Mike replied. "So, back to the truck, you interested in buying her?"

Obviously, I had no interest in buying his truck, so I said, "I'll definitely think it over, but right now I gotta jet. I really gotta piss bad and need to find a bush or something." That last part was true; I really did need to piss badly.

"Dude," he laughed. "No need to be pissing on some old lady's bush. The house is empty, but we're also painting up the inside and have got the key. You are more than welcome to go inside and use the washroom if you want."

"Are you sure it's ok?" I asked.

"Sure. Not a problem, dude. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

I thanked him and I took in his ass as he led me to the house and then showed me where the washroom was.

I went into the washroom, closed the door, and took care of my full bladder.

As I was coming down the hall from the washroom I could see the living room and noticed that Mike, as well as the other guy, were both in the house now, and Mike was saying something to him quietly. When I got out into the living room, Mike introduced me to his buddy, telling me his name was Brad.

Brad also looked to be in his mid-twenties, with the same dark brown hair on his head, and some close-cropped hair on his chest, and was muscular, too, but not quite as ripped as Mike. Like Mike, he was also sporting a couple of tattoos and wearing nothing but baggy cut-off shorts hanging low on his hips.

After introducing me, Mike indicated they were going to take a break and wanted to know if I wanted a beer. Naturally, I said yes.

Mike opened the lid of a cooler that sat in the room and pulled out three beers, handing one to Brad and one to me.

Because the house was empty, there was no furniture in the place, so Mike grabbed some empty paint buckets and turned them upside down, placing two of them side by side and the third opposite them.

I was sitting across from Mike and Brad, and every time Mike lifted the beer can to his lips his right bicep flexed and it was driving me crazy with lust. After sneaking a furtive glance at Mike's crotch, I also noticed that the top button on his cutoffs was now undone and I could see even more of the jet-black streak of hair leading down to his crotch.

Besides being sexually attracted to Mike, I also admired his ripped physique and wanted to know how he achieved it, so I started asking Mike about his workout routine.

Brad's male competitive spirit kicked in and he immediately started ragging on his buddy saying, "Mike may have bigger muscles, but for the muscle that counts the most with women, I have him easily beat."

Mike shook his head, seemingly having heard this argument before, and then rolled his eyes and said, "Brad is just jealous because I get more looks from women than he does."

"You may get the looks, but that's all you get because while you are spending all your time in the gym with your 'homo' bodybuilder friends, I get my workout laying pipe with the ladies, lots of ladies." Brad then jumped up and stood in front of both of us and cupped and squeezed his crotch in his hands and said, "Women like a big dick better than they like big muscles, and they'll choose the big dick every time."

Meanwhile, my dick was begging to get hard, which is bad when you are wearing skin-tight Lycra bike shorts. I was praying they would not notice my growing bulge, and I leaned forward a bit so they would not spot the evidence.

"You've only seen me pissing, so how would you know? I'm probably as big as you are, or bigger when I'm hard," Mike responded.

Brad scoffed at this and then looked at me and asked, "What would you prefer if you were a chick, a big dick, or big muscles?"

"I'd have to see your dick to know for sure, since I have already seen Mike's muscles, which, I have to say, are pretty awesome." I couldn't believe I actually said those words, but by that point, I was buzzed after the exercise and drinking a beer on an empty stomach, and so fucking horny. I knew if it hadn't been for that, I would never have been bold enough, or brave enough, to respond that way.

But what I really couldn't believe was Brad's reaction to my statement. Instead of getting mad and asking me if I was some kind of homo, or telling me to get the fuck out of there, he simply started to unbutton his shorts and hauled out an uncut cock. It hung about five inches or so, soft.

After pulling it out, he let go of it and crossed his arms over his chest. When he did that, his loose-fitting shorts fell to the floor leaving him there naked just a few feet in front of me.

All Male Fiction: A Dying Request

By: Tommyhawk1

 

My last four patients had been sound asleep. I thought the fifth was, too, but the squeak of my cart's wheels caused him to turn his head my way, so I smiled and pushed the cart on in. "Book or magazine, sir?" I offered.

"No thanks," he said, turning his head toward the window. A soft groan escaped his lips.

Depression, I decided; plenty of sick people start giving up on life. A bit of lively conversation ought to cheer him up; after all, I was a volunteer.

He was looking out the window at a beautiful summer day. "It's a beautiful day outside, isn't it?"

"I guess," he said lethargically.

"My name is Cody," I told him. "I'm a senior at Whitman High this year, and I'm volunteering here at the hospital; so, you'll be seeing me around here."

"Not me," he said. "I'll be gone by then."

"Oh, you heading back home tomorrow?"

He turned his eyes to me and I realized that he was young and damned good-looking. His hair was mussed and uncombed, dark locks in tangles on his head, and his skin was an olive tone courtesy of some exotic mixture of ancestry. His eyes were dark black orbs that shone above a heavy set of eyebrows. And yet he wore an air of heavy sadness.

He looked at me in turn, seeing me in my clean white shirt and dark blue pants. I wore an armband that marked me as a volunteer at the hospital. "No," he said to me. "Not back home… except the home we all go to one day, sooner or later," he sighed. "At least I know it's coming."

"Huh?" I said. Then it hit me. "You mean..."

He nodded soberly. "Yeah. They should have told you. I have a defective aorta. Every time my heart beats, it rips a little wider. By this time tomorrow, I'll be..." He lifted one arm and made a sort of "whoosh" movement "...out of here."

"But... can't they operate?"

"Not on this," he said. "No time."

I was foundering. "But you're just... here in this room. There's no machines or anything."

"I didn't want them," he said. "They couldn't do anything but prolong things. I could stay alive as a vegetable indefinitely. I chose instead to let it happen. My choice."

If I'd been foundering before, I was drowning now. "What about your family?" When someone is dying, the family is always there, aren't they?

"Mom couldn't handle it," he informed me. "Dad took her home; he'll be back in an hour or so."

"That's... that's too bad… that your mom can't be here," I said.

"Can you stay with me for a few moments?" the man asked, putting his hand on my arm. "It's kind of lonely... waiting to die."

"Sure, sure," I said.

The man wiped at his eyes. "Could you close the door? You know, in case I start crying or something."

"Sure, sure," I said and hastily complied, shoving my cart back out into the hallway and closing the door after it. Just old books and months' old magazines, hardly items worthy of pilferage; we passed them out to the patients and gathered them up again when the patients were done with them.

"Come sit," he said, patting the bed's edge.

I did so, though it was kind of crowded like that.

"You're a nice-looking guy, Cody," the guy said to me. His hand went back onto my arm, clamping on; not too tight, but it wasn't going to let me go real fast, either.

"Thanks," I said. "So, uh, what's your name?"

"Ace."

"Ace?"

"Short for something I don't like to remember," he went on. "You're new here, aren't you?"

"First day," I agreed.

"I thought so. I'd have noticed you if you'd been here a while. Given that this is most likely my last day on Earth, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure, sure," I said again; it was turning into my default phrase.

"You wouldn't mind if it's kind of a peculiar request?"

"Of course not," I said. A dying man's last request, of course, I'd go along with it! "What is it?"

"You see, on the whole, I'm not afraid of dying; I've lived a pretty good life overall, you know?"

"Sure, sure." I was sounding like a broken record.

"But there is one thing I would really like to do, just once, before I die."

"What's that?"

"Cody?"

"Yes?"

"This is going to sound weird."

"That's all right," I assured him. "Just say it."

"Well it's kind of hard to say to someone, but, well I've always had this, well, sort of secret… craving to, well…"

"To what?

"To try it, see what it's like."

"Try what?"

"Well… oral sex… with a guy."

"Huh?" This I wasn't expecting. Take him to see a baseball game, maybe! "You want me to… to suck your..."

Straight Fiction: Poolside Attraction

 By: Bethyboo

 

The midday sun beats down as he watches her over his laptop. The splashing of people in the pool fills the air. He stares at the long length of her back, dimples just showing above her bikini bottoms. He sucks in a half breath; his fiancée is beautiful and he reaches to lazily run a finger from the waistband of her bikini, along her spine, stopping at the ties that stretch across, just below her shoulder blades. He moves them aside and frowns at the white strip, stark against her tanned back.

He unties the top, flipping the strings to either side and watches as she leaps up from the chaise, grasping her bikini top to her breasts, her eyes burning brightly with anger as she yells at him, "What are you doing?"

"Just trying to help you get rid of those tan lines," he frowns at her as her face turns crimson.

"What is wrong with you? There are people out here, who might see, and get the wrong impression." She reaches back, tying a knot in her bikini top so that he cannot do that so easily again.

Taken aback by her outburst, and a little embarrassed as several people stop to see what is going to happen next, he sets his laptop aside and rises, his six-foot frame towering above her. He stares down at her, watches as her lower lip does that little tremble it always does just before she cries. 

Frustrated, he blurts out, "You are such a prude; you even like to have the lights off when we have sex. What is wrong with you? Damn it! This isn't high school!" He turns and stomps off, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He enters the hotel, not even giving a glance back to see the tears in her eyes.

She stands and watches him leave, waiting for him to turn around, to apologize, and as his ass disappears through the door, she starts to shake. Is it anger or something else that makes the tears flow down her cheeks?

He enters the room, dropping his clothes along the way, and steps into the shower. He lets the spray stay cool, washing the anger from him, taking away the edge that momentarily flared up as he thought of his near-naked fiancée being ogled by the men at the pool. Damn it! He has needs and desires... and all she seems to have are rules and limits.

She looks up at the window of their hotel room and starts to smile as she realizes it has an unobstructed view of the pool. She licks her lips, anger giving her fortitude she didn't know she possessed. She reaches down and grabs the lotion, turns, and squares her shoulders. Marching up to the lifeguard stand she peers up at him, her eyes squinting in the sun.

"Excuse me, but my fiancé just left and forgot to put lotion on my back; I don't want to burn. Could you help me please?" She holds the bottle of lotion up in the air, standing on tiptoe and flexing the muscles in her ass. She knows she looks good, her long legs accentuated by strong calf muscles.

He tips his sunglasses up and looks down at her, a slow smile spreading, "Of course!" He descends the ladder and stands mere inches from her. He peels the bottle from her fingers and spins her around, the sensation of his fingers on her shoulder making her shiver in the heat of the day.

He is so tall he casts a shadow over her. She is a little nervous, quivering as his hands start to spread the lotion, up and down, small circles, sensuous as he lingers, his fingers pressing lightly at the sides of her breasts. She gives a languid stretch as he leans against her, his cock, his hard cock, pressing to her lower back.

All Male True Experience: Hot Summer Nights

By: Curt J.

It was the summer between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I didn't hate high school; I had a lot of good memories with my best friend Don. We weren't unpopular, but we were far from part of the "cool" crowd. We rarely got invited to parties, and even worse, we never had girlfriends - at least we weren't the guys who got picked on by the jocks. I was actually a member of the track team, so I earned a certain amount of acceptance with the cool crowd, just not enough to be a full-fledged member.

As I was lazing around one day, the phone rang. It was Don, calling to inform me that his parents had gone away to visit a relative for the weekend, and he wanted to know if I wanted to come over and hang out. No parents? A whole house to ourselves? I was down for that, of course, and told him I'd be over in a little while.

I enjoyed hanging out with Don. He had been my best friend for over seven years. He was laid back, and never cared about his social status in high school. He could have been an excellent athlete, but never played on a team; instead he always had a job after school. As a result, he practically had a mini-bachelor pad in his bedroom: a huge TV, VCR, video games, and a top-notch stereo system – as you can tell, this all took place years ago. Don was fun to hang out with, not only because he had a lot of nice "toys", but also because he was fun to talk to.

When I showed up at Don's place, we went straight up to his room and played video games for a while. At some point we ordered a pizza, and after we had finished it we decided to switch from video games to watching movies.

When it came to what movie we were going to watch first, Don telling me to go ahead and see if there was anything in his videotape cabinet that I wanted to see was the catalyst for what would follow.

I opened up the cabinet and checked out his collection of movies. I was a bit surprised to find an adult video, and pulled it out and looked at the cover, then glanced over at Don and promptly asked him where he got it.

Let me explain: back then there wasn't easy access to porn like there is now; you had to buy girly magazines, and buy or rent porno movies, and you had to be eighteen to do so. Don had just turned eighteen a couple of months ago, and I had just turned eighteen three weeks prior. We could both now legally buy or rent it, the problem was we lived in a small country town and there wasn't any porn available to buy or rent. Don was an only child and I had an older sister, so no older brothers for either of us to get porn from. So basically, the only way for us to get our hands on some would be to buy it online (and neither of us had a credit card) or drive to another place where it was available that was about an hour away.

So, how did Don get a porno?

Well, I couldn't believe it when he told me he'd gotten it from his dad, or more to the point, how he'd gotten it from his dad! Turns out he didn't find his dad's porn stash and steal one of his videos, but his dad actually offered him to borrow his porno movies if he wanted, telling him where he keeps them and that he could feel free to borrow them anytime he wanted, as long as Don's mom wasn't around when he went to his dad's hiding spot to do so.

Fuck, at the time I remember thinking how lucky he was to have a cool dad who provided his teenage son with porn to watch, and I told him so. Then I asked him if the porno I held in my hand was hot, and he said what he'd watched of it had been, then surprised me a bit when he said we could pop it in the VCR and watch it if I wanted to.

I just shrugged as I stretched out my arm to give him the tape, like watching it was no big deal to me. Truth be told I wanted to see it so bad; I had never seen a porno before, or any porn for that matter!

Don had a nice big double bed, and I lay down on it and propped myself up with a pillow. Don put in the tape and stretched out next to me, also propping himself up with a pillow. At first, it felt a little uncomfortable, but I soon started to feel more relaxed, in part because Don was so laid back, you couldn't help but feel at ease around him.

We sat there watching the porno in complete silence for a while but soon began to chat about what we were seeing on the screen. I remember it all, everything I was seeing for the first time, and everything we said and did, just like it was yesterday:

"I'd love to do that to Angie Smith," Don commented on a girl from school as the couple on the screen fucked.

"I'm a bigger fan of Leslie Harris," I replied.

"Well, we can wish all we want; it looks like it will never happen."

"Yeah, our sex lives aren't the greatest," I commented.

"You've had sex?!" Don asked me.

"No, unfortunately."

"Yeah, me neither," Don informed, and I remember him seeming both disappointed that I hadn't, and relieved that I hadn't because he hadn't either. "Fuck, I'd love to try it," he added.

We looked at each other, two horny guys alone watching porn. We could both see we had hard-ons under our shorts.

"Fuck, I want to try it so bad!" Don exclaimed with obvious desperation and frustration in his voice. "Like, right now!"

"Yeah, me too, but we need a girl for that, and not having a girl to do that with is our whole problem," I laughed.

"Not necessarily…"

"Wh-what are you thinking, Don?" I remember thinking we were thinking the same thing, weird as it was for us to be thinking what we were thinking.

"You, um, want to try it, Curt?"

"Um, I'm not gay. But I'm turned on, and I'm desperate to know what it's like, too. I don't know… what do you think?"

"Well, I'm not gay either… but I'll… suck you if you do the same for me."

"I dunno… if-if we do that, you have got to promise me you'll never tell anyone, ever!"

"As long as you never tell," he responded.

I remember we sat there for a minute, not saying anything, unsure if we should go through with it. We were both nervous and turned on, both breathing hard, and both had stiffies that were rock hard and throbbing… at least mine was throbbing. I could also feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Don finally spoke. "I've thought about asking you to try this before, but I was too scared," he told me. "I promise not to tell anyone; it's our secret," and then he rolled off the bed and just started to get undressed. The time for thinking was obviously now over; it was happening.

I hurriedly pulled off my clothes, too, and in a flash, we were both lying on Don's bed, totally naked and displaying our excited cocks to each other, the porno all but forgotten now.

All Male True Experience: While You Were Sleeping

By: xichang

 

This happened a few years ago while I was attending university - best time of my life.

I was in a fraternity in university, but don't go thinking this is gonna be some story about being a pledge and having to engage in gay acts with other pledges and/or fraternity brothers; that only happens in porn. That being said, the experience I am going to share did involve one of my fraternity brothers. His name was Dennis, and he was a couple of years older than me. We were not roommates in the fraternity house, but we shared the same interests - running, swimming, drinking, and having a good time – and so had become fast friends and would spend a lot of time together.

Dennis was about six feet tall, with dark blue eyes, and a close crop of curly brown hair. His smile could light up a room and he had an infectious laugh. The girls loved him, and he definitely seemed to be the straightest guy around. As good of friends as we were, he, nor anyone else, had any idea that I was gay. Because I wasn't 'out' I would pretend I liked girls, even going so far as to go out with them on dates - in fact, Dennis and I would actually double date quite a bit, and I was always jealous of what the girl he was with was going to get at the end of the night!

When Dennis and I would go running, it was always in the morning, but I am NOT a morning person. Dennis would come into my room, dressed in a sweat shirt and the tightest pair of shorts, which always drove me crazy because the tightness of them only served to accentuated his bulge.

"Wake up buddy," he would say while poking my foot with his sneaker. "Time to go work off those beers and chicken wings."

I would be groggy in my bed, either tired from a late night at the bar, or from spending hours trying to get caught up on my classwork, and I would usually just grumble incoherently, roll over and fall back asleep.

Then Dennis would get a bit more aggressive in his attempt to wake me up. He'd slap me on the ass while I slept in my briefs. Then he'd roll me over and poke his finger into my stomach telling me, "You are gonna get a GUT if you don't get out and exercise!" Suffice to say, many a morning he caught a glimpse of my morning wood before I rolled back over or got up to slip on a pair of running shorts.

I also had a chance to see how this affected Dennis, as he would saunter over to the window and look out, under the guise he was giving me privacy, but I could see him adjusting his junk.

One night near the end of the school year (and Dennis' graduation year), he and I went out with a bunch of our brothers and got totally wasted. We stumbled back to the house afterwards, and Dennis joined me in my room for a couple of belts of scotch. Pretty soon, we were both passed out on my bed.

I woke early the next morning to find Dennis lying directly next to me. I could hear his deep breathing as I watched his chest rise and fall. I looked down and saw his taught stomach leading to a full mound behind his jeans, and I wanted to reach down and just put my hand right on that HOT mound. The thought of how he would have to adjust himself after seeing my morning hard-on outlined in my briefs gave me the courage to do just that. I waited for some form of reaction - either waking up to smack me in the face, or something worse!

All Male Fiction: A Fair to Remember

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

 

The summer after I turned eighteen, the old gang from high school decided to get together for one last fling. A couple of the guys were getting married in the fall, a couple more were joining the army, and myself and another were set to go off to college. We all got together out at my parents' farm for a big barbecue, then we headed out to the big park on the outskirts of town, where the county fair had set up. This might not seem like a likely place for a big fling, but you gotta remember that we were country boys living far from the temptations of the big city.

The six of us hit the fairgrounds at about sundown, and soon we'd bro­ken up into two groups. I was walking down the midway with a couple of my buddies when a herd of kids rounded the corner of a tent, going full-blast. One of the little rug rats plowed right into me, jamming his cotton candy right between my legs. It was hotter'n hell out, and the com­bination of sweat and sugar on my bare legs was not a pleasant sensation. I looked down and saw nothing but pink fuzz from knee to crotch. My buddies got quite a kick out of it, but I couldn't see wandering around for the rest of the night with sticky thighs, so I left them at the arcade booth and headed off in search of a place to get cleaned up.

I must've made a wrong turn, because instead of ending up at the bathrooms under the grandstand, I found myself smack in the middle of the trailers where the folks who worked the fair circuit were living. There were a couple of lights on, but for the most part everyone was work­ing. I was trying to find my way back to the midway when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Stop right there, buddy," a gruff voice ordered. Hell, I wasn't looking for a fight, so I stopped right in my tracks. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was taking a shortcut to the men's room, and I guess I got lost," I shrugged.

As he removed his hand from my shoulder, I turned to face the man who had stopped me. He was a big guy, with slicked-back hair and a cigarette hang­ing out of the corner of his mouth, glowing in the dusk. The light was behind him, so I couldn't make out much more than that, but he could clearly see me. "I got zapped by some kid's cotton candy. I'm a mess." I looked down at my legs and shrugged. The long hairs growing on the insides of my thighs were plas­tered flat, giving me some credibility.

"Looks like they got you a good one," he chuckled. "Sorry I wasn't too friendly at first, but a couple of the trailers got robbed last week and folks around here are a little nervous. Why don't you come with me and we'll get you all fixed up?"

I nodded and followed, assuming he was going to show me to the washroom since I had told him I had gotten lost trying to find it, but instead he led me over to a trailer parked under a large tree. He flipped on the lights and motioned me inside. The trailer was tiny, and there was barely room for the two of us in the cramped quarters. The guy smiled at me and offered me a beer, which I gratefully accepted.

In the light, I could see that he wasn't much older than me, probably mid-twenties, dark-haired and kinda good-looking, in a rough kinda way. He hadn't shaved, and the stub­ble on his chin and cheeks was almost starting to look like a beard. The sleeves were ripped off of his shirt, displaying a solid pair of arms with pumped biceps. There was a tattoo of a tiger on his left forearm that really looked like it was moving when he flexed his muscles. His shorts were just an old pair of jeans that he had cut down, and they were worn in all the right places. He had big hands with grease and grime ground into the callouses, like he was a mechanic or something along those lines.

"Looks like they got your shorts as well," the guy said, staring openly at my crotch. "Slip 'em off and I'll throw them in the sink; in this heat, they'll be dry in no time."

I took off my shorts and discovered that the gooey mess was also on my shirt. The guy motioned for me to give him that as well, leaving me cooling my heels in my underwear, white socks and sneakers. "I feel pretty dumb," I commented, taking a long pull on the beer.

"Don't worry about it," the guy said, looking me up and down. "Too fucking hot for clothes anyway," he said as he peeled his shirt off over his head.

The guy was built real solid, with a smooth chest and a pleasure trail that traveled from his navel into his jean shorts. He motioned for me to sit on the couch, then sat on the chair across from me. The space was so small that our knees were touching.