The moving guy had been eyeing Doug all day. At first, Doug thought that the guy was annoyed with him, or maybe with Tricia, for how they kept asking him to move furniture around, But, then after Tricia had left with her mother to go look at window treatments, the moving guy had done more than just look at Doug; he kept talking to him, finding ways to be around him, brushing up against him. It took a while, but realization finally dawned, and Doug had felt both flattered and apprehensive. But he was engaged. And a professional. And he hadn’t done jack shit with a dude since he beat off with Logan McGuire the summer before college. He didn’t fuck around, and definitely not with dudes.
When the last lamp and end table had come through the door, Doug tried to keep his cool. ”Well, thanks a million. Want something cold before you go?”
The moving guy smirked. ”Nah … how about something hot?”
Again, it took a minute, but then Doug caught it. “Oh—ha, ha—look, bud, I’m flattered by you and all, I just—”
But the moving guy wasn’t listening. He was just pulling off his sweaty tshirt, exposing the tattoo on his arm and brilliant, muscular pecs.
"You’re up for it, I can tell. All your shy fucking grins at me."
"What?" Doug blanched. He hadn’t grinned—had he? "I didn’t—I don’t know—"
Suddenly, the moving guy was naked. ”You’re more than up for it, guys like you. You fucking need it.” His long, thick dick was already swelling, right before Doug’s eyes.
"L-l-look, ha ha! Look, I, uh—wow—you need to pull those pants back up dude, or I’m gonna—"
"Gonna what? Pop a boner and embarrass yourself?" The moving guy reached out and boldly gripped Doug’s groin.
"Ooomph!" Dough had grabbed at the guy’s arm, he remembered, but after that it all just went so quickly, the rubbing, the clothes, the kissing, the tingle up his spine, the assurances and promises that it wouldn’t hurt, and then that moment, this moment, when he just kicked up his legs and let the guy breed him.
It was moving day. And more things shifted than the furniture.