Strapped Tight

Of course he was the one who got the job.

Three days after Jimmy started, he stayed late to help me wrap up a sticky project proposal. I was tense and tired and grouchy, and he was being just as helpful and understanding as he could be.

Long after all of the lights in the other offices had gone off, I reached a difficult point in what I was writing and couldn’t decide just which way to take the proposal from here. With an “Arghh,” I just threw myself back in my chair and laid the back of my hand across my eyes.

“What you need is to release some of that tension,” a voice wafted over to me from across the room.

I opened my eyes, and there Jimmy stood, in the doorway. Completely naked. His compact little body was beautiful. He was on the solid, curvy side. A barrel chest, tapering down to a thin waist and hips, but with round, bulbous butt cheeks. He was a natural redhead, and a respectable cock and set of balls plunged down from a profusion of pubic hair. There was a curve of curly red hair cupping both of his bulging pecs and a trail of hair traveled down his chest and belly and met his pubes. His thighs were covered in a red down. He’d let his hair down, and it fell down to his shoulder in a curly profusion. He looked like a Greek warrior to me. Compact and proficient, and covered in brown freckles.

But what really, really aroused me was that he was fisting and swishing several leather straps at his side. His clothes had been piled up beside him just inside the door, and when he was sure he had my attention, he had leaned down and picked his jeans up from the floor and pulled several lengths of leather straps that he’d been using as a belt out of his belt loops.