Brian rolled the coat into a ball and pressed it against the side of his seat near the door. “I’m going to have a bit of a lie-down, if you dinnae mind.”
“Not at all, go ahead,” Andrew mumbled noncommittally, keeping his eyes glued to his reader which was obscuring the hard-on in his slacks.
Turning his back to Andrew, Brian swung his legs up onto the seat to lay with his knees drawn up and his ankles crossed. He faced away from Andrew with his head resting on the folded coat. When the Scotsman inhaled, his white dress shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders, revealing the sweeping muscles of his back, the slow even breaths confirming his relaxation. The bent position of Brian’s legs caused the kilt’s hem to ride up past his knees, and the garment now lay halfway up his solid thighs.
Careful to make no noise, Andrew slid to the window and pressed himself into the corner of the compartment. From this angle he saw even more of what the Scotsman had to offer. Andrew held his reader as if he was reading by the light from the window, but his eyes were glued to Brian’s butt. Andrew’s cock was steely hard; trapped against his thigh, the rigid flesh had begun to ache. He loosened his belt and slipped his hand down under the waistband of his pants. Andrew pulled his shaft upright in his sweaty shorts, thrilling at the touch.
The thrill was new. Never had he been so aroused by just the thought of a man’s ass. Corey had had a fine ass—taut globes which had been eminently fuckable. Of course, Andrew had seen lots of ass in the showers on base, but certainly none had given him wood like this. Maybe I’m turning into a pervert.
He had to see more. The thought of that single layer of plaid wool obscuring the Scot’s ass was too tempting to Andrew. Desire, or rather naked lust, made him bold and daring. Waiting until Brian’s regular breaths gave every appearance of his being asleep, Andrew reached out for the hem of the kilt. His hand trembled; adrenalin rushed through his veins. Gently, he grasped the hem, lifting it slowly with his thumb and forefinger. He paused, heart pounding, his pulse throbbing in his ears. Raising the kilt up to Brian’s hip, Andrew carefully folded back the woolen material.
Andrew now saw Brian’s entire ass. The same curly fur covered the Scotsman’s cheeks as his thighs. Round and firm, his pale buttocks glowed in the morning light, the muscles tight and hard-looking. Separated by a deep crack from which more black curls peeked, the two halves begged to be kissed, the solid flesh caressed.
Shallow and ragged, Andrew’s breathing felt labored. God, I’m going to faint!
Nervousness dried his mouth; he licked his arid lips and swallowed thickly. He imagined those curls to be very soft and slightly damp.
Brian stirred in his sleep. Andrew froze. The Scotsman snuggled deeper into the seat cushion, straightening his arms and pushing his hands down into his crotch. He arched his back and shifted his thighs, pushing his exposed ass further toward Andrew. Brian’s cock and balls popped into view, jutting from between his thighs.
Andrew stifled a little gasp.
– © C.C. Williams 2012