Thick thighs stretch the material of his slacks, and I wonder how tight his pants must pull across his ass, knowing exactly just how nice of an ass it is. The black pants also cinch tight at his waist under an expensive-looking leather belt with a silver buckle that gleams in the dull office light. He has the top button of his shirt undone, exposing a sliver of the black ink that must be scrawled across his chest, and he’s rolled the sleeves up once, or maybe twice, leaving his roped forearms open to greedy eyes like mine.
