After Hours
He apologized for his girlfriend’s behavior. When we’d finished our beers he leaned into me, smiling slyly. “Just let me ask you one question,” he said in a low voice. “Were you really staring at my ass?”
He apologized for his girlfriend’s behavior. When we’d finished our beers he leaned into me, smiling slyly. “Just let me ask you one question,” he said in a low voice. “Were you really staring at my ass?”
The briefs were stretched taut to accommodate the loaves of his butt, protruding like a shelf from his arched back. This was nothing like that manipulative box photo, so eager to turn you on but not wanting to offend. This was the real deal.
He’s half-naked, his impossibly flawless and muscled torso swaying as he walks past me. He wears a pair of black nylon shorts, the mounds of his plump butt practically bouncing as he walks. He must have just finished running.
“Your sister’s asleep,” he said, and took a gulp of beer. I looked down at the bulge in his drawers. It was conspicuously fat.
A chance encounter with a young college stud.
A young man is lazily seduced by his aunt’s hot, good-for-nothing husband.
A hot Italian landlord gets acquainted with his tenant.
The story of how having sex led me to do drugs.
Three buddies do some age-old college experimentation in this novella-length story.
“Hey, to each his own,” Perry said, “all I know is, I’m gonna lay back and let one of you feast on my butt while I shoot a load.”