As I enter our cozy fourth-floor apartment, the open laptop obscures your view of me. Your expression says something serious is unfolding on the screen. The familiar sound of Mack’s matter-of-fact tone suggests that this is a business meeting.
Easing further into the room, the top half of your attire confirms my suspicions. Soft, navy blue material is smoothed over a strong, broad chest and bulging biceps. Almost surreptitiously, it reaches like a teasing lover to caress your ripped back muscles.
The black windsor-knot power tie is inciting a riot within me. My hungry gaze moves down to where your matching work pants should have been, but finds instead, my favourite polyester-spandex boxer briefs. They contradict your upper professional demeanor and attire – your manhood is straining against the thin fabric, begging to come out and play.
I can help you with that.
Suddenly, you feel exposed, and peek over the lid of the laptop to find the source of your privacy’s invasion. You discover my stare and the vulgar intentions etched in the expression on my face.