“What are you doing here?” His shorts were so low I could see the top of his pubic area, which looked freshly manscaped. The southern mound looked snug in the Lycra material, semi-hard and plump.
“We need to talk. Or, at least I do. And you need to listen to me.”
So I stepped aside and told him, “Come in. I’ll get you a towel and you can dry off.”
* * * *
He kicked his drenched shoes and socks off and used the cotton bath towel on his chest, back, and legs. I was quite surprised when he pulled off his shorts and wrapped the towel around his center. Did he plan to stay a while as the running shorts dried? Did he want to borrow a pair of my shorts for his run home? Who knew?
“Can I have a drink?” he asked, being forward.
“Water? Or something strong?”
“Something strong. Have one with m
