Let me tell you about Andy. The first time I met him, actually, saw him, he was doing tequila shots off a bar somewhere with his best girlfriend fag hag. They were loud and full of life and I was naturally repelled and attracted both at the same time.
He had on a white bonds t-shirt which was tight on him, which left none of his fine muscles to the imagination. And he had on a pair of jeans that were baggy on him, pulled tight at the waist and bunching up right at the front making it look like he filled them out well. Of course, he did fill them out well.
Andy smiled at me and kind of winked and I was a little taken aback looking around behind me to see who it was he was, actually, smiling and winking at.
He and his girlfriend were the life of the bar that night.
I was there with a friend, he and I were out for a quiet nights drinking.
Sometime later, Andy came over in his big, goofy way and slurred in my ear, Let's go home together?
That boy. Sexy and cute and funny and smart and trouble and hard work and irrational and loud and gorgeous free spirit sex pig all rolled into the same sexy, muscular, contradictory mass of...
Pulling his jeans off sometime after that, I got to see what the term "hung like a horse" really meant. Two handfuls, more, hanging off him like some boa constrictor curving up to meet me. I'm sure that thing could have turned on me and swallowed me whole, over the following hour, if it had so wanted to do.
He liked to work on cars and he had these blue overalls that he liked leaving unbuttoned right down the front. T-shirt, jocks, it's not much of an impediment when he is standing looking so god damn gorgeous in front of you.
His floppy blond hair, his square jaw, his three day growth. The line of buttons unpopped one by one all the way down his front, as if to make a proposition.
Thick thighs, big purple nuts, wide fat shaft, rock hard like metal. Foreskin. Precum.
Long sperts of cum.
Shakes his feet when he blows.
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