A rush of fluid betrays me, and he dips a finger into the flow and then holds it up into the light. “Hmmm, I think someone might not be quite tellin... the truth.” I can see the evidence of my arousal, and as he brings his finger to his lips, the woman (his wife? girlfriend? who cares…) steps forward and meets his lips with her own, tasting me together. Ok, they’ve got me. So I am definitely interested. But it’s really difficult to admit it, even to myself. He tugs gently on my arm, and we step. You don't have him pay for your drink and make you feel like a bitch. But, to be honest, I never thought I'd find myself taking it to any higher level. Than friendship.For the past five years, I've been real dudes with Leon. One of those hefty, big and kinda lazy black boys you don't wanna get in trouble with. He works in a car wash, where I first met him actually, and he's never attended college. Prefered to find something and get himself some bugs. He lives with his family, in a low-class. More

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