Little Squirrels Can Climb Tall Trees Michael Murphy (acx book reading TXT) 📖

one another on the floor of the gym. That topic could only go so far—in other words, not very—so he switched to another topic. TVs throughout the gym had all been tuned to CNN so everyone could watch the president address the nation on the latest economic crisis. Seemed like they happened every week or so lately. I had listened, as apparently had my tall locker-mate.

This tall guy standing next to me clearly knew his current events. He made some observations, asked me some questions, and dropped in some facts about the issue the president discussed that were so far beyond what any of the talking heads had said after the speech that it was obvious he really knew his stuff or was one damned good liar. I came down on the side of his being really smart and well informed.

And his smile. Oh, dear God! That smile. His face—way up there—was so animated. Some guys work hard to maintain a mask of utter neutrality, isolation, almost boredom when in public. There was something about men that just made us so scared about revealing anything to anyone we didn’t know—and even then, not so much.

But not this guy. No. Absolutely not this guy. This guy wore no mask, unless you called delight a mask. As he talked, his entire face was part of the conversation. And he just exuded energy. It was positively infectious. The guy was the master of facial expressions. And have I mentioned his smile? Oh, that smile!

I tried my very best to remain focused on the conversation even though I was distracted by his smile and his friendliness. He was just adorably cute—no, handsome. No, cute worked. Can you be cute and handsome at the same time? Clearly, since this guy was!

When he pulled his shirt off over his head, I took a quick second to admire his physique. Nice. Tall and lean, not willowy but also not just skin and bones—no, absolutely not. He seemed to carry the perfect amount of weight for his frame. I know, that sounds stupid, but it just seemed to fit him perfectly. He wasn’t overweight, nor was he underweight. He wasn’t pumped up beyond belief. He wasn’t a steroid-hyped muscle drone. He was just… well, right.

His torso was smooth, hairless, and absolutely glistening with a light layer of sweat. Okay, focus. That’s right. Eyes off those nipples. Those perky, taut nipples. No! Focus! Look at his face! Pay attention! Oh, that face. Okay. Not working. He’s talking. Must pay attention to what the man is saying. Must pay attention!

Picture a car wreck on the freeway, dude, I told myself—anything to keep from making an utter fool of myself in front of this friendly stranger. I succeeded in keeping focused on the proper parts as we conversed, and I actually managed to make a couple of points that made him laugh as we talked.

He used his T-shirt to wipe away some of the sweat on his torso and from under his arms before tossing it into his locker. I wanted to take that T-shirt, shove my nose into it, and bask in the scent of his heady masculine aroma. If I could, I would have shoved the shirt into my bag and taken it home to keep by my bedside for when I jerked off that night.

It got a bit easier when he sat on the bench and untied his shoes to remove them and his socks. Wow, big feet, I thought to myself. In retrospect, I should have seen it coming. I really should have. It was stupid that I didn’t, but I was a bit off my game. I’ll admit it.

Seemingly without a second thought, my new tall friend loosened the tie on his long, loose, baggy workout shorts. The shorts dropped from his body and crumpled to the floor at his feet. Without my consent, my eyes dropped to all of the new flesh that was revealed. His workout shorts had gone nearly to his knees, and since his legs were long…. Well, you can figure it out. There was suddenly a lot more flesh available for my viewing pleasure. His legs had a light coating of brown hair that added just the perfect note of masculinity. Oh, I was losing it, big time.

Focus! I scolded myself, once again picturing mangled bodies lying on the freeway after a twelve-car pileup. Flames shooting into the sky. Tanker trucks exploding. Mayhem everywhere. Broken glass. Blood. Guts. Gore. Okay. It was working. I could do this. Oh, no! the voice in my head pleaded. The guy turned to grab something out of his locker, revealing one of the most luscious pieces of man ass I had ever laid eyes on in my entire life.

“Oh, mama!” I actually said softly. And the way his jock strap seemed to hold that butt just about had me panting like a dog in heat. I think I really did whimper a little at that point, but at least he didn’t seem to hear me.

Okay. I was gonna do this. Deep breath. Chant something stupid. Breathe. Oh, fuck!

Any hope I had of remaining upright and responsible—an adult—disintegrated before my very eyes when the guy casually reached down, gripped the two sides of his jock strap, and peeled the stretchy cloth from his body. And when he did, the dick that popped out caught my gaze and wouldn’t let go. It held me more tightly than someone could have grabbed me with their hands.

He didn’t seem to notice. I certainly did. He turned and tossed his jock strap into his locker. When he turned back toward me, he very casually faced me full-on once again. Clearly the guy had no body issues, none, absolutely none. He was comfortable in his skin. And what skin it was.

And then it happened. He was animatedly making some point to me about… I have no clue, since I wasn’t able to distinguish one word from another any longer, when his