BACK TO THE CLUBHOUSE
Charles was like glued to the sight before him when he heard his name. It didn't register at all. All he could focus on were the hard muscles, pulsing flesh right in front of him, begging—no, pleading—to be licked right there.
He was ogling. It was embarrassing, but he wasn't himself until a tap landed on his shoulder and he gasped inwardly.
"I lost you there… hey, are you okay?" Thomas asked, concern flickering in his eyes.
Charles blushed hard, his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink as he tried to calm his racing nerves.
"Oh, I was just… hmm, that's one nice set of muscles you've got there, man. Are you working out?" Charles blurted, his hands already itching, the flesh looking far too inviting.
Thomas smiled, then grinned.
"Don't worry, you can touch. It's not bad," Thomas responded freely.
