Need-A-Nerd

Ah, so, I thought. Maybe the man from Bill’s took the bait last night after all. But I found that a little surprising. I somehow thought he’d left with the young muscle guy at the other end of the bar while I was settling my bill with Bill’s cock. And given that thought, I rather assumed the older guy couldn’t walk this morning let alone sniff around another dick. The humongous balls I’d gotten a glimpse of up the muscle guy’s shorts promised a similarly oversized rod. The muscle guy looked like he’d have something to split you in two and the energy to do it repeatedly. Which, of course, was why he’d caught my interest to begin with.

I wasn’t wrong. Trevor. That was the older man’s name. Trevor. And there was some last name that indicated he was big in local business or something, although I hadn’t remembered it. The size and lushness of the house bore out that impression, though. Well, Trevor met me at the door in a silk robe and nothing else.

And he did look a little bowlegged and bedraggled this morning—walking really stiffly as I followed him from the foyer to a living room with a gorgeous view of the Bay of Plenty. Dragging-quality tired, and just slightly put out too. Not really mad; just a little miffed maybe.