I reasoned. “And I’m Michael Donovan; Mick to my friends.” He put out his big hand and I met it for a manly shake.Up close his scent was strong; stronger than his decently-groomed and not-dirty boots and jeans had suggested. Maybe it was just strong in the same air as my squeaky-clean faint trace of soap. Whatever; my dick and balls wanted to inhale more of him.“The door fellas?” Kent dead-panned.Jeans guy’s eyes shot up and he pulled his tight-muscled body away and inside. “Why yes: I’ll be joining you two if you won’t be minding,” he said as if he was waiting for confirmation.His jeans bulged even more than when he’d been stroking his hard-in in the bar. I reached forward without waiting for an invitation and unbuttoned his jeans; he wasn’t wearing a belt. This close I could tell that he’d brushed his teeth and apparently had gargled. I appreciated the gesture. I knew that he had not in fact showered; that stronger scent of a man than I’d expected with very faint undertones of his soap was driving me as much as my horny neediness.
