Sarah’s mom had to fly out for a work thing, so the house felt emptier than usual. David texted Sarah mid-week: “Come over for dinner Friday. Bring Alex. I’ll grill steaks again.”
She grinned at her phone. “Dad likes you. That’s rare.”
I forced a smile, but my stomach flipped. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the barbecue. Every night I jerked off remembering his hand on my lower back, the way his jeans stretched over that thick bulge. I felt guilty as hell, but the guilt only made my c**k harder.
Friday night we pulled up just after seven. The air smelled like charcoal and something richer—David’s cologne mixed with sweat from working all day. He met us at the door in a tight black tank top that showed off his broad chest and the dark hair trailing down his stomach. His arms l
