“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.