Thirty minutes later, alcohol has definitely not been a good idea because I feel a bit tipsy. We’re deadlocked in a tie and we’re down to our shirts, socks and underwear.
“Ben, you sexy bitch, get your ass over here. It’s your turn.”
Okay, maybe I’m a shade past tipsy.
“Alright, hold on to those sexy panties. I’m getting us a refill from the kitchen.”
I watch him move from the kitchen back to the table and am having to remind myself to not stare. Lord or lord, what a sight. He’s wearing boxer briefs that are encasing strong muscular thighs. This same piece of material is barely keeping in a massive bulge that I can’t help but stare at until my eyes have started to fog over. Watching as he leaned back to grab some napkins, I’m pretty sure drool actually dropped out of my mouth in appreciation.
As I tilt my head to the side, to ensure I catch a good enough glimpse, I see his tight shirt has risen up enough for me to get a peek at his sexy stomach and Adonis belt. I’ve known him for years, so I’ve seen him with his shirt off, his chest is something to behold, all chiseled muscles and enough hair to never let you forget how much of a man he is. Of course, chest hair alone doesn’t make someone a man, but in this case, it definitely makes you unable to ignore it in any way shape or form.
Hearing him close the fridge, I look down at my playing cards and see several drops of actual drool on the table.
I instantly grab for a napkin and frantically try to wipe up all the evidence before he gets back.
“Too late, Ren. I already saw your drool.” He gives me a quick wink as he nestles into my side with the biggest grin on his face. “You think I’m sexy and I know it.”