He smiled. “Hey.”
I looked down at the floor and said, “Oh, hey.”
We stood there in silence for a moment. He watched me with a smile on his face as I struggled to look at anything but the gorgeous cock and balls he had left hanging out his fly.
I coughed suggestively and said, “Umm, I think your fly is down, Chris.”
That unflappable smile remained. He looked down at himself and said, “It is.”
I shifted from foot to foot as I weighed the meaning of his reply. “Shouldn’t you zip up?”
“No, I think you like it,” he answered.
My discomfort was only rising, but I couldn’t deny the hard-on in my shorts. “But what about Rachel?”
Chris shrugged and said, “She doesn’t give head… but I bet you do.” After a brief pause, he explained, “A few weeks ago, my buddy told me gay guys give it the best. I haven’t been able to look at you since without imagining those lips wrapped around me.”
“You’re serious?” I asked with an incredulous look on my face.
“Why don’t you get on your knees and find out?”