Time to pack for home

I still can't believe Oliver and I got away with that. It was so close but so hot. I'm still working on packing and I'm mostly done. I've packed all the clothes I want to take home and am laying out my winter crap to store when a knock arrives at my door.

"Come in!" I quip.

"Last night..." I look up and see Sir Oliver. Lol reminds me of game of thrones. It's so cool. Damn, this boy is fine.

"Yes." I respond.? What the fuck kind of response is that.

We stare at each other with bashfully awkward smirks on our faces. Wow, those shorts. Again? Black and just as shiny, they nestle a thickening cock. I walk over to him and place my hands on his hips. I look up at him smiling fully before I lower myself to my knees. He places his hands on my shoulders shyly and bites his lower lip and he exhales softly.

I grip the side of his shorts with one hand and rub the palm of the other across his form. I gently stroke it over his shorts and take its qualities with my hand: the thickness, the length, the shape. I grip his shorts with both of my hand and pull just so the waistband of his shorts rests above his knees. His thick thighs not only tell me he still dances but probably plays rugby or something too. Damn, this boy.

His cock fills out his boxer briefs in a cute and sexy way. I kiss his cotton covered shaft and notice a little wet spot has begun to form. Hungry (thirsty?), I pull down his briefs by the waistband. His beautiful dick pops to attention. The protruding veins tell me he's ready at any moment. But, not yet.