Walk Confidently (well, as much as you can)

Ethan straightened his spine.

Or… tried. Hard to look dignified when you were naked, trembling, and cupping your own cock like a priceless Fabergé egg. But he inhaled, lifted his chin, and stepped forward with the bravado of a man who had absolutely no bravado left.

The book-club women parted for him, forming a loose aisle—like a guard of honor if guard-of-honors contained zero guards and four horny, overly-interested spectators.

Floral-romper girl murmured, “Mmm. Confident. I like it.”

The brunette lifted her phone. “Sorry, this is for… personal enrichment.”

Ethan **** a nod. “Great. Perfect. Glad to be part of your… continuing education.”

The redhead chuckled. “Oh trust me—we’re learning a lot.”

Glasses-girl adjusted her frames. “Posture note: the clench in your jaw is adorable.”

Ethan walked on, slow but steady, cupping himself firmly, trying to pretend the hallway wasn’t spinning and that his penis wasn’t one heartbeat away from humiliating him even harder. They leaned in as he passed—close enough that he felt the warmth of their breath, caught hints of perfume, heard tiny, appreciative sounds.

He made it two steps inside their semicircle.

Three.

Four.

Right into the center of their “aisle.”

And that’s when it happened.

A sharp smack cracked through the hallway.

Ethan jolted forward with a strangled yelp as pain bloomed across his right ass cheek. His hands flew instinctively to the source of impact—leaving absolutely nothing shielding the front.

His cock sprang free in a perfect, treacherous arc.

For one frozen microsecond, silence.

Then—

“Oh MY God.”

“Holy shit, look at it!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“That’s… unfair.”

He flushed so red he could’ve powered the building’s heating system. His cock throbbed openly in the cool hallway air, thick, flushed, the head glistening—swinging slightly from the momentum of his panicked stumble.

Gaby’s voice came from behind him, smug and bright.

“Oops. Sorry, honey. Couldn’t resist.”

Catcalls erupted.

“Work it, big guy!”

“Don’t cover up on our account!”

“Turn around! Let us grade symmetry!”

Ethan made a noise that could only be described as a dying kettle-gargling-a-scream. He slapped his hands back over himself—too late, far too late—and lurched forward again.

This time he didn’t walk with dignity. He scurried.

Shuffled.

Escaped.

The women laughed, encouraged, complimented. One offered him her number. Another told him to hydrate.

He half-ran the remaining few feet, hands clamped over his cock, heart ramming his ribs, and fumbled the key into Chloe’s lock.

It clicked.

He shoved the door open, dove inside, and slammed it shut behind him—panting, sweating, fully naked, and harder than he’d ever been in his life.

The hallway erupted in delighted applause.