He slides his tight jeans off, revealing a hard and toned body beneath. My eyes meet his and heat explodes between us like sexual fireworks. I can barely hold back the desire to touch him, to explore and feel the curves of his body until we both fall apart.
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He moved closer, his tight jeans cupping his every curve, every ripple of muscle. His scent was like an aphrodisiac, a raw heat that made me ache for his touch. I lost myself with one glance, and suddenly all I wanted was him. Hot. Hard. Mine.
I find myself hypnotized by selfies of gay men- their toned bodies, musky scent, and eyes that mesmerize. As I admire their images, a fantasy forms in my mind. His skin against mine, his mouth exploring, our bodies entwined in pleasure. In my imagination, I can feel him and I remind myself that this could be more than a dream; these fantasies could be made real.
He longed to feel her curves, tightly encased in the denim that hugged her body so invitingly. He could see her curves from across the room and a fire burned within him, her jeans a catalyst for a passionate desire. He wanted to trace the outline of her body with his hands and feel her heat rise with each caress.
The steamy scene suddenly opened before him, and he gasped. Dozens of gorgeous, scantily-clad Adonises paraded before his eager eyes, their toned bodies radiating sexual energy. He found himself drawn in, tantalized by the smouldering glances shared, the pulse-pounding anticipation, and the thrill of carnal knowledge.
The rumble of his denim as he moved, the hypnotic heat that oozed from his skin, the way the fabric brushed against my own–my body thrummed with anticipation, too weak to be anything other than yielding to his sensuality. He was unforgettable.