“Can you take off your shirt, too?” he asks, and I take a breath. “Sure.” Ever-so-slowly I remove my shirt, and I close my eyes when I’m done – I’ve never had a guy’s gaze on me in this way. “Wow,” he breathes. “You’re perfect. Can I touch your chest hair?” I swallow. “What little I have of it, yeah.” My dick gets harder than a boulder as he reaches over and nuzzles my patch of chest hair between my nipples. “Fuck. And your pants?” Reluctantly I start taking off my khakis, my mind spinning with fear and insecurity and glee. “…And your boxers?” Cringing, I slide out of my boxer-briefs. I am now
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