HIS69-550 Lincoln Park Studs
Lincoln Park Studs
HIS69
HIS69-550
Carl Enders
$3.95
Lincoln Park Studs
HIS69
HIS69-550
Carl Enders
$3.95
Excerpt
I was facing east, and the newspaper delivery truck guy was trying to look at me into the sun, which is still pretty low at 6 AM.
Without a word, he turned his back giving me a good look at his ass, which was a double handful of tempting muscle I can tell you, and climbed into the back of the truck. “Come on in, and sit, unless it’ll cool you down too much.”
“I was just about to go home,” I pointed over across Clark Street. We lived on Menomonie in one of the expensive Old Town conversions.
“Must be nice.”
“Got a basement apartment I’m renting from a relative,” I said, not knowing what else to tell him.
He sprawled on the empty truck bed, and stroked his crotch. Now that seemed like an invitation to me, so I crawled into the truck and pulled the door shut. The place reeked of paper and ink, only natural in the circumstances.
“You want to get it on?” he asked, batting his eyelashes and flashing his green eyes at me.
“You want to get it off?” I countered. My dick was swelling and pushing against my jock already. Outside the morning rush hour was beginning. Somewhere was his driver. And here I was in the back of the The Chicago Tribune delivery truck ready to make out with one of their boys.
“Touch it and find out,” he countered.
I sprawled near him and could smell the work sweat of his body. The T-Shirt emphasized every muscle. The hair flowed like a black river over the edge of the oval.
Still sweating myself from my run, I edged forward on the truck bed until we were parallel, crotch to crotch, but not touching yet. “Is it worth the effort?”
Suddenly he closed his eyes, reached his big hands across behind me and pushed my ass forward until my crotch ground against his in a slam that would have put my balls up through my teeth if they’d been in the right position. Fortunately they were busy shrinking in another direction.
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