It was hushed in the room, just the overheated breathing of Brent rasping harshly, as Tim rubbed his cock through his suit, lightly gripping and pumping the throbbing, growing length under the expensive, straining silk. Brent closed his eyes and tilted his head back, spread his legs wider apart, clutching Tim’s shoulder. Tim pumped up and down with his hand, his small, dexterous fingers swirling and stroking. Until he saw a stain appear high up on Brent’s fly, a darker spot against the dark material, growing in size as he petted the man’s cock.
He pulled his hand away and said, “Mind if I take off my shirt? It’s getting pretty warm in here.”
Brent’s eyes popped open. He gulped, his cock a pulsating length in his pants. “No, go ahead!” he croaked.
Tim stood up and stripped off his shirt, tossed it onto the TV mounted on the chest of drawers. The shirt draped over one of the black boxes that sat atop the television set. Tim’s chest was smooth and golden-brown, his nipples tan and puffy, his stomach flat and narrow. He sat back down on the bed, snuggling against Brent.