Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
The more I massage, the more my fingers graze his privates.
“Mmm, yeah, yeah … that’s doing the trick,” he groans.
What trick, exactly?
Am I working out his charley horse or getting him off?
Both?
“Just tell me if I’m pressing too hard,” I state in a level voice, determined to stay focused on the task.
You know, the task with my hands up Cole Harding’s shorts.
Kneading his muscled upper thigh like dough.
Pretending I’m also not partially massaging his balls by proxy.
If I knew this was going to be part of the interview …
“You are doing it perfectly,” he says in an erotic moan I’m not sure he intends, head rocked back, jaw slack, lips hanging open.
“Okay,” I flimsily mutter back, continuing to massage.
My eyes wander to the crotch of his shorts, where I watch the bump of my hands underneath them gyrating around. I had sorely underestimated how close they are to his cock. A passerby could easily mistake the bump in the fabric as merely an extension of the already generous gift God gave him in the genital department.
Yes, I said it. Cole has been gifted.
“Mmm, I hate getting these …” groans Cole from above. “They are the worst …”
When did my heart start racing? It’s galloping like I just ran a mile. It can’t be healthy for my heart to race this much for such an extended period of time.
I’m not used to sexually-charged cardio exercises like this.
Come to think of it, I’m not used to the normal ones, either.
“Just relax,” I urge him in as soothing a voice as I can muster. This doesn’t come naturally to me. “Keep your mind off the pain.”
I’m not sure that’s a very fair request.
Telling him to keep his mind off of his cramping thigh.
With a pair of hands up his shorts.
“I’ve got this wicked one in my lower back I get sometimes,” he starts telling me. “And now and then one in my left calf. Don’t know why, but they just wake up with a vengeance whenever they want to, usually after I come home from a workout. Like I did this morning. Did I mention that? I did a workout this morning. Got up super early. Had to focus my brain. You ever go to the gym?”
“Um, no.”
“We should go sometime! Since I work there, I can get you in. It’s a fun way to relieve stress, even if you’re not there to get all buff and stupid-ripped. No one needs to be stupid-ripped. Y’know how many benefits you gain mentally just from a little walking around? All the healthy chemistry it does to you? Miraculous.”
My eyes drift to his crotch again.
I mean, it’s right there. Right there in my face.
Next to my moving hands, too.
Which keep brushing against it.
And I’m not entirely certain whether I’m meaning to.
Surely Cole is as electrically aware of what’s happening. After all, it’s his royal jewels my hands keep thieving subtle touches of. How is he not reacting? Why is he talking about working out?
He returns his hands to the back of his head, cradling it as he keeps it rocked back, talking to the ceiling. “Wow, you must have the magic touch, Noah, I swear …”
I am literally staring at his crotch. Is my face growing closer to it? How is that happening? Are his balls a pair of magnets? Is his dick a tractor beam? “Thank you,” I mutter absently.
“Really, no one’s been able to ease a charley horse of mine like that so quickly. Especially not one in my thigh.”
I have no control as my face grows closer. “I’m glad to be of … of service.”
Even his bulge in these khaki shorts is beautiful. Like art. Not egregiously huge. Shapely and inviting. Well-rounded. Perfect.
And my face is like a ship being helplessly drawn to shore.
Slamming into the docks is inevitable. All my crew members are panicking, running around the deck, trying to stop it.
Captain, this ship is about to crash.
There’s a shrill yelp from outside the tall window.
Suddenly I’m sober again. The CPU has rebooted. Firmware is updated and running smoothly. I retract my hands from his shorts at once and stand up, alarmed, as I turn to the tall window.
Cole’s dog, who apparently was banished to the beautiful prison of their large backyard as a punishment for the vase, has made a timely appearance, standing proudly in the flowerbed just outside, panting and happy and staring at us with interest.
I barely notice when Cole rises from the chair and stands next to me. I swallow, then say, “It seems like she wants attention.”
Cole gazes at me, bringing his face close to mine once again. “You can tell Porridge is a she?”
“You mentioned her gender when I first came in.”
“Oh.” He lets out a soft, breathy chuckle that raises tingles of delight up and down the back of my neck. I can’t hope to explain that reaction. “You’re very observant, Mr. Reed.”