“You don’t have big muscles.  Sam, you’ve got the big-EST muscles!”

I remembered how Sam’s face had blushed big-time when I’d said that to him before he rebuffed it  by saying, “Ah… I think I needs to grab me just a quick shower first….”

Well, that was my truth then, and it has remained my truth ever since. Having lived with Sam and also  around Sam’s world for many months – and specifically having lived ironically over a gym – I mean, of  all the possible places I could have ended up – I’d seen a few other fairly big and well-developed men  from time to time downstairs using the facilities.  I had something much more concrete now that  supported that original assumption of mine even more.

Sam actually did take that shower and it was a very long one at that.  And when he finally  reappeared, I was still sitting there with my butt parked on that same chair.

I remember that as Sam  walked over to me, he was still rubbing his head with a towel.  He’d also doffed his cloth in favor of  a pair of sweats again, his much preferred hanging-around-the-house gear – really it was  ‘everywhere’ gear I’d learn quickly enough.  It never mattered to me what he wore.  The magnificent  stud just looked hot in everything – and hotter in nothing at all.

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