Chapter 22

He eventually pulls his face away from my stomach region and kneels above me. His shirt is removed, dropped to the floor…somewhere. The man’s chest gleams a golden-brown, heaving. Nipples and the strings of hair beneath his navel are coated with droplets of perspiration. He strips out of his shoes and shorts, losing them…somewhere. Soon, he becomes naked and hard, eight, almost nine inches of a fully erect muscle grows between his legs, pulsing, throbbing, beating, obviously ready for what two men can accomplish in a rented cabin on Chipmunk Island.

My shoes are removed, as well as my shorts. I feel his right hand wrap around my swollen dick. He pulls the pumped mass towards him, quickly releases it, and it snaps against my flat stomach, beneath my navel, driving me mad. A painful cry exits my mouth, but it’s based more on pleasure than hurt, wanted desire.

He snaps the cock a second time, grins down at me, and says, “You like that. Don’t you, Ricky?”