“Jimmy?”Scott asks.“You want to get some food before we head out on the road?”
He sounds like he’s coming closer,and suddenly I’m all too aware of the fact that my ass is in the air,aiming his way.I hope he enjoys the view—I have a nice round butt that looks great in tight pants,if I do say so myself.What the rappers call junk in the trunk.Lots of padding for the pounding,I liked to say when I was in college and looking to score.I wonder if Scott’s staring at my ass right now,thinking something along those lines.
I hear his shoe scrape over the pavement—he’s stepped up beside my car,and for the briefest second,I feel a slight brush across my backside.Barely there,might have been fingers or might’ve been the hem of his shirt,it was that indistinct.But in the confines of my slacks,my dick jerks to attention,coming a little in its excitement.Did he just cop a feel?
God,I hope so.