Bill, unsure what to say, let himself get pulled against the big man’s chest. He tipped his head up and Pete mashed his mouth against Bill’s, his tongue forcing Bill’s mouth open. This is French kissing, Bill thought, before all thoughts went out of Bill’s head as Pete’s tongue made wet circles in his mouth, his thick chest rubbed against Bill’s, and his hands kneaded Bill’s butt. When the older man licked his neck and nibbled his ear, touching nerve endings Bill hadn’t known existed, he got so hard it hurt.

“What do we have here?” Pete asked, grabbing Bill’s cock through his pants.

Bill nearly apologized for his erection but Pete unzipped Bill’s fly, stuck a finger into his crotch and rubbed the damp, sticky head of Bill’s cock, making him gasp with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already leaking. That’s so hot.”

Pete released him, stepped back, pulled his shirt over his head and kicked off his shoes. Not only were Pete’s chest and belly covered with hair, but there were tufts of hair on his shoulders. When he removed his Levi’s, the dark pelt extended over his thighs and legs. He wore black briefs, his big, hard cock clearly outlined beneath the thin fabric. When he pulled them down, his dick, thick, purplish, and heavily veined, sprang free from a thatch of black hair.

“Your turn, Billy. Show me what you got.”

Awkwardly, Bill pulled off his T-shirt, shoes, socks and pants and stood in his BVDs, in what felt like the furnace of Pete’s maleness. He was overwhelmed by arousal and anxiety. To buy a little time, he stammered, “Um, I have to pee.”

“Go ahead,” Pete said. He lay down on the couch. “I’ll be waiting for you right here.”

Bill closed the door of the bathroom and stood at the toilet, his dick in his hand, pretending to pee. His heart pounded at the thought of the big, naked man waiting for him in the next room. He had no idea what he was supposed to do and he worried that his inexperience would annoy or disappoint Pete. Flushing the toilet, he decided he would do whatever Pete wanted him to do.

“Come here, pretty boy,” Pete said, when Bill emerged from the bathroom. But Bill, mesmerized by the sprawl of Pete’s naked body, could not move. After years of quick, furtive glances at other boys while they showered in the locker room, trying to memorizing the small details of their bodies to which he would silently masturbate later, Bill was free to look his fill and he could not stop staring.

“You’re burning a hole in me with your eyes, Billy. It’s okay to touch too.” He patted the couch beside him. “Come on, baby. Come over here.”