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Uh…more out of control.
Flings are fun…can be fun…should be fun…but it needs to stop here.
Now.
…Right?
Entering our small kitchen occurs in tandem with Kipp doing the same.
Under normal circumstances watching him put on his dark gray mechanic shirt post a shower wouldn’t be something that happened yet at this moment? At this very fucking moment? It’s the only thing I seem capable of fucking doing. While the fitted fabric does a dick rising job of clinging to his wet muscles, it’s gawking at the water droplets themselves that are tumbling downward, outlining his pecks and abs and every sharp curve a guy his age is proud to have that has my cock kicking for his touch.
You know I used to have all that shirtless in a shitty movie shit too.
I mean…I still do.
To an extent.
It’s there…it’s just not there like it used to be.
Hm.
Maybe I should hit the weights a little harder this week.
Give The Kid a little more to look at if we keep this going.
Fuck…can we really keep this shit going?
Is it the best idea?
Honestly…it isn’t the worst idea and that’s saying something.
But what happens when Bunny is ready to hop along to her next adventure?
Fuck the next pair of saps who couldn’t resist helping a hot girl with what I just assume are daddy issues and car trouble?
Do we…just…find another chick to fill her place?
Is there even another chick that could?
And why the fuck do I have this pinched nerve nagging that tells me that’s not only not happening but impossible because she is it for us?
The only one.
Our one and only.
Fuck, I need a drink.
“Mornin’,” The Kid greets just above a whisper, aiming not to wake up the sleeping beauty still nakedly sprawled out on the living room floor.
Also, his decision.
Apparently, he didn’t appreciate the first slumber party in the apartment excluding his ass, so he commanded we all crash on the floor together instead. I objected and bitched and groaned; however, truth be told, that shit did wonders for my back although listening to him claim we need to go bed shopping for one that fits all three of us did not do wonders for my sleep.
I mean…seriously.
Talking about that type of shit is a bit much after one weekend, isn’t it?
“Not gonna say it back, old man?” Kipp playfully pokes while reaching for one of the mugs near the machine. “Blow out more than just your sack last night?”
