Sweat
By J.D. Walker
It was the middle of July, and the sweat that ran down my roommate’s chest as he played volleyball on the beach with his buddies was distracting, as usual. I licked my lips, hoping no one else noticed the lust that I could barely hide from where I sat on a boulder, watching the game. I wore sunglasses, not only for the sun, but to hide the way I couldn’t help staring at him. His team was winning, too, and my c**k was hard. Good thing my shorts were knee-length and baggy.
Chance Raynor and I met our freshman year of college and became fast friends. We were as different as night and day, but still, we managed to get along. I was studying Liberal Arts with a minor in Creative Writing, while he was a History major, soccer star, and ridiculously hot. I fell for him from
