I couldn’t help but crave something more from his glistening, veiny perfection. His muscular thighs parted just so and I couldn’t resist trailing my fingers down his milky hips to where his firm cock lay, yearning for my embrace. I leaned in and confessed my purest desires, one that he eagerly answered. With an eager smile, I scooped his eager dick in my hands and said, “Let’s make my dreams come true.
Browsing: #bodyimage
He ran his fingertips along the smooth curves of his body, his entire being electrified by the mere thought of unseen eyes probing his form. The intoxicating pleasure of his own gaze was almost too much to take, and now, with each passing second, the hunger for such scorching intimacy only intensified. His desire filled the air with an almost palpable fervor until the only comfort he could find was in the arms of his own lustful desire.
He was a vision – muscular, chiseled, surprisingly tall compared to my own petite 5’5. His selfies only excited me more; the way those white fitted shorts contrasted his golden tan… unbuttoning his shirt to show his chiseled chest – I felt lightheaded with desire. I was ready to explore every inch of his perfect body.
He squeezed my biceps as he pulled me closer, and I could feel my muscles tense under his grip. I could smell that delicious musky smell that only a man can produce. His eyes were feasting upon me as if I was a piece of artwork, and I began to melt under his stallion-like gaze. We both knew this was leading somewhere; somewhere beyond just muscle worship.
“His shirt was half-unbuttoned, pants barely draped over his hips, revealing a lithe body that begged to be touched. Strawberries and cream I thought. I wanted to run my mouth over every inch, taste the salty sweat on his skin and feel the heat between us. He wanted me, I could feel it. I wanted him too.”
My eyes flicked across the captured image, my mouth slackening and my pulse quickening as I fell into a frenzied daydream, my body aglow and my fantasies boiling at the sight of it: toned muscles, taunt skin and a lingering heat that could only signal one thing– homosexual yearning.
I imagine myself, the object of desire, when I look at those selfies: their bodies in alluring poses, draped in sheets and tight cotton, their faces half shadowed in the glow of the setting sun. I feel the heat of their skin next to mine, the electricity of anticipation, and of a moment in time that is fleeting and sensual.