“I mean… err…”He is suddenly in front of me, the can held out again. I look up at him past my fringe. He seems out of breath, almost panicky. ... lift my chin and part my lips. He blinks, then eases one of those massive hands around the back of my neck. The feel of my hair on his dry, calloused skin is exquisite.He leans forward, his face tense with concentration as he puts the slippery edge of the can to my lips and pours. I gulp, and my eyes go wide as I gulp again, then again. I don’t think. At the three and a half hour mark, there’s a knock on the door. Hands shaking, I answer it. And there he is. He’s changed into more casual clothes like me, which doesn’t disarm his physical presence in the slightest. He takes in everything about me, from my hair that’s been let down and is damp and curly still from my shower, to my t-shirt, with the outline of my tits with their nipples peaked, all the way down to how I fill out my jeans. I can’t help making the same appraisal. He, too, is. More

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