Page 7 of Comin' in Hot
And by Keanu, I mean from that surfing movie where his abs were so perfectly sculpted that you could see the lines through his T-shirt when he was in the ocean.
I smile, my mouth only kind of watering as he turns toward me.
“Yep. Hello, Point Break. Guess I have to drown myself now.”
The thing about being in your prime is that your sex drive feels much like eating with a tapeworm. You’re never full and always hungry.
Shirtless Blondie runs his hand through the water as he says something that makes the other laugh.
Big hands.I lick my bottom lip.
They’re speaking loudly enough that I can hear the baritone but not make out what they’re saying. No matter, this is my new favorite show. I’m happy to watch it on mute.
Point Break sluttily takes off his shirt too, and I’m frozen in horny place. Because are they both getting into the shower together?
There’s only one showerhead.
To say my stomach gets warm is an understatement, because the idea of these two men sharing a spout just made me tingly in all the deepest places.
I should look away.No, I shouldn’t.It’s not like they’re getting naked. They’re just bros, who might, just possibly, or are maybe about to wash each other’s backs. It’s actually super wholesome.
More men should create friendships like this.
But as I gaslight my depravity, my eyes grow wide because Blondie dips his thumbs just inside the waistband of his red board shorts.
“Oh my god…are you taking those off…sir, we are in public.”
I know my mouth is open because I momentarily notice the fog on the glass. As if it’s Christmas, Point Break follows his lead, slipping his thumbs beneath his band.
Holy shit.
This is karma for being a good person. I’m reaping the cosmic rewards for being a decent human.
I love me. I’m so proud of myself.
Oh god.Hip is exposed. I’m blinking a mile a minute. Fast enough that they look like those drawings on paper that only move when you flip through them quickly.
Blondie turns around, exposing the top of his ass as he dips his head under the water.
Holy shit. I can’t watch this. I shouldn’t. This is weirdo behavior.
Then again, it’s not like I’m looking through their bedroom window. Just mine. Plus, anyone could see them. They’re doing this in public. I’ve basically been invited.
Although this is the side of the house, maybe they assume privacy? They did come from the beach.
A thousand more points and counterpoints go through my head, but my body stays glued to the spot where I’m standing.Except for the small step I take to bring my legs closer together so I can squeeze them.
Oh god, it’s settled, I’m a criminal. A lech. A pervert.
I accept me.
So I don’t move. Instead, I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, letting it drag out slowly as I watch six-packs flex and move with each tug of the shorts.
Why are they taking so long to de-pants? It’s like they’re teasing me.
I’m waiting with bated breath, my chest rising and falling with depraved intention as that red fabric dips right, then left, then right, then left.
I hum out a breathy chuckle because I realize my shoulders are wiggling along with the movement. But my wide-eyed expression slowly drifts into a frown. Because joke’s on me.
