His shirt, which so nicely twisted and tightened around his muscular frame, is now on the floor. The "take me for a ride big boy" uttered with such false bravado had done the trick nicely.

While I offer curves, he offers ridges and defined lines. I run my fingers playfully, almost giddily, bouncing across the smooth bumps of his abdomen. The skin is tanned and responds visibly to every touch. He laughs at his own arousal as I bite at his nipple. Taking his pants off is great fun. I nuzzle his dark cock, licking it and surprising myself at my own lusty grabs for his Cool-Water-ad ass. Can it be possible to judge something as "scumptious" only by one's hands? If not, will have to go in for a taste, purely to ensure my linguistic correctness of course. As he roles me onto the bed and beneath him, I watch the side of his back expand and move against me, almost like poetry.

Sometimes someone can be so good looking as to make up for mediocrity in the sack.