Finals had stretched much further through the day, and by the time I got home, it was the evening. I swung my rickety apartment door open, and to my undeniable relief, found Jason fast asleep on my couch. I walked over to the living room, silently placing my car keys on the kitchen counter, looking absentmindedly at my asleep guest. He looked big on my small and unsavory couch.
He had no blanket, wearing jeans and t-shirt I had bought him, his thick, meaty arms placed behind head. When out of that strange suit, he looked astonishingly normal, other than his potent masculinity. His face was filled, suiting a husky-handsome that cleaned up nicely, though he kept his close shaven beard.
Realizing I was staring, I quickly make my way to my room, feeling weariness heavy in my head, and collapse onto my bed. Before I knew it, I was drifting off into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.
. . .
The morning of the arrival of Jason in my apartment began perfectly normally.
I was making coffee and cereal when Jason finally wakes up.
"Mornin'."
I say to the man, as he sat up on the couch, running his fingers through his matted brown hair, and looks up to me with brown eyes sporting thick shadows beneath them.
"Morning."
He said groggily, his deep voice hoarse. Getting to his feet, he stumbled slightly, as if to adjust himself to his balance.
"You feeling better?"
I say, peering at him over my coffee cup as I take a sip.
He nods, stepping over to the counter.
"Fundamentally."
He said simply.
A newspaper on the counter captures his interest, and he takes it under his arm.
He heads towards the hall, calling as he went:
"Off to the shower."
The deep cut along his arm was mostly faded and healed, along with the cuts and bruises on his face.
I noticed he no longer walked with a limp.
How is that possible? It's been a day.
I decidedly put it off to the side.
I take my cereal, coffee and cell phone and plop down on the sofa, next to Jason's Walmart bag of clothes.
After a few minutes, I hear the shower turn off, and the door opens.
Without thinking anything of it, I listen as I hear the heavy padding of bare feet walk up the hallway.
And then I look up.
Jason walks lazily towards the couch, completely naked, water droplets still smoothing over his bare skin.
I gasp, making Jason stop in his tracks.
"Why the hell are you naked, man?"
I exclaim.
He folds the newspaper he was still reading, and tossed it onto the kitchen counter.
Unable to resist, I look down to his body.
Hair lays flat and damp over his burly and broad chest. A solid six pack was bricked impressively on his stomach along with his thickly muscled obliques, the hair narrowing as it smooths over the abdominals. Veins protrude hulking biceps and triceps, his deltoids and back muscles a broad mass, along with his legs. His quads were bulked, each muscle group visible, and strong.
Following a deeply set V on his lower abdominals and a bush of pubic hair, a thick cock hung between his legs, its veiny shaft leading to a bulbous head, the two mounds of his testicles dangling heavily.
It had to be four to five inches long flaccid, at least.
I was getting steadily hot in the face.
"What?"
