My gaze lingered on the screen, captivated by alluring curves, the glimmer of pure, searing heat emanating from the seductive half-smile; the sinful temptation of the open collar, waiting to be explored. His selfie: a siren song of sexual potential and desire.
Browsing: selfies
My hands tremble as I swipe through the selfies of ultra-hot guys wearing only skimpy briefs. I lose my breath at their sculpted abs, smooth chests, beckoning smiles, and tantalizing bulges. I can feel my pulse race as I imagine my tongue trailing down their curves, and my body aches with desire for the endless erotic possibilities these photos promise.
He looked like a god. His perfect body, bathed in the golden sunlight of a summer’s day, sent a million naughty thoughts running through my mind. I wanted to touch him, to taste him, to fully experience the intensity of his being. I knew that looking away wasn’t an option and I looked deep into his eyes, losing myself in the sweet, homoerotic intensity that only he could provide.
The steam in the room was thick, almost tangible as I looked through his selfies. He was shirtless and posed in just his briefs, grinning in the bathroom mirror. My fingers itched to touch his toned skin and to feel the heat coming off his body. I closed my eyes, letting out a breath, and created a passionate fantasy of the two of us.
He was all smooth and toned perfection in his selfies, like a man-made god of the homoerotic. His online presence aroused something in my soul, as if he were calling me to a new level of sensual awakening. Every time I looked, I felt my desire rise and my inhibitions melt away like snow in the sun. I was powerless before the man and his selfies.
He slowly lifted his shirt, revealing his smooth, toned chest with every agonizingly perfect move. His abdomen seemed to ripple and dance with passion every time I looked. I was mesmerized. I felt my heart racing and my skin buzzing with heat as I contemplated the intimate secrets that lay beneath his clothes.
He was the most gorgeous, muscular man I had ever seen. I dreamed of sliding my hands all over his body, feeling every curve and bulge, tracing every veinlike a roadmap of paradise. His selfies unleashed waves of dirty desire in me, and I wanted nothing more than to touch him!
He unlocked his phone, and on the tiny, glowing screen lay a sea of juicy selfies filled with salty beefcake. He licked his lips in anticipation and hungered to dive in – the perfect cocktail of sweat and muscle, all on parade for him to savor. It made his gullet quiver, as he licked his way across each one, until finally, thirst quenched, he slumped in satisfaction.
He couldn’t fight off his desire to reach out and touch the jock’s body. He gatecrashed his own imagination after surrendering to the inviting joy of every flexed muscle, like some forbidden entrance to salacious pleasure. Arousal burned inside him and the urge to explore deeper became his only motivation.
He lay there in all his sexual glory, bathed in the morning sun’s embrace, a tantalizing feast for the hungry eyes of every gay man. His skin glistening, his muscles tight, and his very manhood a thing of desire and natural beauty. I longed for a taste of that salty nectar that flowed between us, to experience his warm embrace, to taste that forbidden fruit that only he could provide. The ultimate seduction of a hot guy’s selfie.