Stroked Long (Stroked, #2)

by Meghan Quinn

with me. We’d been crying. So much crying.

“But, this bathing suit is barely a two-piece. I can wear it as one. Watch.” Scrunching my torso down, I yank on my bottoms and pull them up as high as possible to cover the scrap of skin between my bottoms and top. It works! “See, one-piece. Guess this little fella is multi-purpose. Boy, didn’t I get a good bang for my buck? Wouldn’t you say?” “You look like a seventy-year-old turtle trying to show off your camel toe,” Lauren points out.

She’s one hell of a shitty swimmer. Doggy paddling as an adult should be a crime.

“Anytime. Now, let’s take our balls out to the balcony and get our stroke on.” I can’t help it. “I hope you’re talking about painting.” “What if I wasn’t?”

“Yes, who can forget the moose knuckle?” The horrified but fun-loving look on her face makes me laugh out loud, not just chuckle or *gulp* chortle. No, I laugh.

Bodi Banks is one hundred percent spooning me. Not only is he spooning me, but his hand is up my shirt, and he’s glued to my back, to the point that it almost feels like I’m his lifeline.

Tell me, have you kneeled in front of a bench with him, pant-less, cocks out, and laid them on top of the wood to compare girth and size?”

“Can’t say we’ve ever benched our dicks together.” “Have you done it alone?” “Not so much.” “Are you thinking about doing it now?” A pause and then, “Kind of.” A deep laugh bursts out of me from Bodi’s confession. Never in my wildest dreams could I ever envision Bodi letting his dick loose and resting it on a locker room bench just for the hell of it.

“Yarn sale!!” “Sweetheart, brace yourself. All Red Heart yarn is on sale. Dare I say, even the boutique styles.”