one of the nice things about having lost a little weight is that most of my shorts and jeans tend to inch down over my hips. i love the feeling as they slide lower, rubbing across my pubic hair, creeping lower and lower. on days i go to the store, i choose my shirt carefully, taking the one that hangs lowest – the one that hides the fact that reaching just a little higher for a box of something would expose the base of my semi-hard cock.
some late evenings, especially the sweaty humid ones, i’ll wear a much shorter shirt and walk through the neighborhood, keeping to the dark back streets, seeing just how far my shorts can slip without falling off completely. the farther they fall, the harder my cock gets. it pushes against the cotton, twitching and jerking – straining to push over the waist band…and sometimes i let it and watch the head poke up, barely hidden. i’ll duck into a doorway and wrap my hand around it – the heat of my hand and the heat of the night. i’ll jerk it slowly with a low moan and then continue on, my heart thumping as i head toward the vacant main street and cross it, my cock throbbing.
i want Her to fuck me on the double yellow line, yanking my head up and forcing me to watch the oncoming traffic
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