By Atlanta Stud
Zac crashed for the next few hours with good reason. After spending the night locked up in a set of transport shackles and then spending some time chained up to the basement post, he was beat. It was noon before he hit the shower and headed out to run a few errands for the day. It was a scorcher that afternoon so he opted for his cargo shorts, his favorite snug fitting navy Under Armour Just Saying sleeveless tank and his worn low Chucks. It was almost dinner before he got back and he noticed Nick and Daniel kicking around a soccer ball in the front yard, their shirtless physiques glistening with sweat in the late afternoon sun. Zac was pretty cut himself, but he admired Nick’s physique, the muscular trimmed hairy chest that looked bullet proof. With his two bags of new workout clothes in tow, he headed over to chat with the men and soon found himself engaged in the battle of the soccer ball.
By the time it was over, it was a sweaty mess of three muscular hunks.
It was crazy what we were doing. Why? Adin was clearly devastated, just as I had been the day before. But this was his second time, and I knew in my heart that I would do it again if I got the chance. Even knowing that while it was happening, I would know, again, beyond any doubt, that I had made a terrible mistake. Even before Adin showed up with his improbable drug, I had spent a lot mental energy on figuring out ways to make that unbearable feeling last. I had told Adin that this drug was too much, way too much, because the need outweighed the pleasure; but at this point I was wondering how many doses were in the canister, if I’d ever get my hands on it again, and if Adin or someone would administer the rites, as it were.
