This short and sweet story celebrates having an ass on one's lap. We made it extra gay, as usual.
A soft, beautiful ass displayed upon Monty’s lap. What more could Monty want from an evening ritual? Like clockwork, like chemistry—a bare, bare bottom, right there, for him.
The jock, rolled down by Monty’s trembling hands, hovered three inches below the ass line, bookmarking Claude’s thighs. The jeans were out of the picture. The hem of Claude’s shirt, still teasing at the small of his back, was in Monty’s peripheral vision; but it may as well have been a mile away.
Because it was all about the cheeks: cheeks that waited to be squeezed, patted, fondled, and smooched . . . jiggled, slapped, tickled, and licked . . . pressed, praised, stroked, studied, and celebrated.
Monty was already precumming, and he knew that his was not the only wet dick in town. In fact, arousal was literally in the air—he could smell Claude’s hunger. Soon, he would reach in and let his finger taste and feed that hunger.
But first, to worship this display. As was traditional, he bent to kiss it with a lustful reverence, inaugurating his intimacy with the rich meal of flesh. His cockhead tingled and his thighs began to bounce, and he became mesmerized, as always, by the soft sway of Claude’s bottom atop his waves. With gentle claps, he began to meet the cheeks on the upbeats of their rhythmic dance. Then he grabbed them, holding on for dear life . . . his lips teasing the crack, his fingers playing his lover’s ass like a piano.
Note the tattoo on Tommy's finger, so he can hold it over his upper lip and be instantly mustachioed!
If a military guy ever gets a boner in front of me, I'm going to say, "At ease, soldier." Should be great.
—the rear admiral Michael Ian Black
My dentist says my peehole looks great.
—Rob Huebel, whose dentist surely loves to give a pulling
Today is a good day if anybody wants to explore my sexuality.
—the exploration-worthy Michael Ian Black