Boyfriend for Rent by Jamie Lake Page A

fumbling fingers.
    Oh, Jesus. Dear God, Casey thought. Please, don’t do that. You don’t know what you’re doing to me.
    Casey couldn’t help but notice how hard Hunter had become in the process.
    “Can’t open these,” Hunter said, laughing.
    Casey swallowed, his throat dry. “Let me help.”
    “Okay. Yeah,” Hunter said, biting his lip in frustration.
    Casey collapsed on the floor and crawled over to Hunter on his knees.
    Just breathe. He just needs help unbuttoning, that’s all. Don’t do anything you’ll regret and for the love of God, don’t take advantage of him. He’ll never speak to you again.
    Casey had to keep his anxious hands from trembling as he reached Hunter. The two of them locked eyes.
    Hunter was drenched in sweat; maybe it was because he was drunk, maybe it was because it was fucking hot in the living room, or maybe it was something else.
    Hunter flashed a smile at him.
    “Sorry,” Hunter said.
    His lips were so plump and moist, Casey wanted nothing more than to suck them with a hot , wet kiss—or anything else Hunter wanted to offer him.
    Stop it, Casey told himself. Just help him out.
    But when Hunter’s tongue traced his front teeth and the woodsy aroma of beer and hot sweat made its way to Casey’s nostrils, it turned him on, big time. His erection pressed painfully against his zipper.
    “No problem,” Casey answered, his hands resting in Hunter’s groin area as he started to unbutton. “They are tight,” Casey chuckled.
    “Go ahead,” Hunter said, thrusting his crotch forward to make it easier.
    Casey popped those buttons open until he got to nearly the last one, and that’s when it happened: Hunter’s cock popped out as well.
    It was semi-hard and thick.
    “Sorry,” Hunter said, trying to stuff it back in his boxers, as if teasing him, daring him to pull it out again.
    “No, it’s ... it’s ... it’s okay.” Casey said, embarrassed. He tried to keep his eyes off of it and ignored his own growing cock which was rock hard.
    “Help me get off ... I mean, get them off?” Hunter asked, slurring his words as he pulled his pants down.
    Casey took both hands on either side of the jeans.
    “Pull it,” Hunter said. Something in his voice was very domina nt, which only turned Casey on more.
    He obeyed, pulling the tight jeans off, his hands sliding down Hunter’s sweaty , muscular thighs to his hairy, thick calves and down to his socks.
    Hunter stood up as Casey went down on his knees. He swallowed hard at the sight of Casey kneeling there, head perfectly poised, as if ready to just open his mouth...
    Casey kept his eyes down. He couldn’t look up, not knowing that Hunter was in a t-shirt and boxers. Boxers that housed a bulge that he was far too interested in. His face was at the perfect height to pull Hunter’s cock out and give him the blow job of his life.  Jesus Christ, Casey thought, fighting the urge.
    He could smell Hunter’s aroma wafting down on him.
    “Hey, Casey,” Hunter said, soft and masculine, his voice rumbling.
    Casey swallowed, looking up.
    “While you’re down there, can you get me off?”
    “What?” Casey asked, his voice cracking. He flushed.
    “I mean my socks. Can you get my socks off?” Hunter said. He tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside.
    “Sure,” Casey said.
    “Should I sit down?”
    “If you want.”
    Hunter collapsed onto the couch and let out a moan. “Feels good,” he said.
    He looked good. Those boxers, that body. Casey wanted to run his tongue over each and every tattoo. His legs opened as Casey removed his socks one by one. Casey knew it was a little kinky, but he liked the sweaty smell of a real man’s feet.
    For as masculine as he was, Hunter was good at keeping himself clean. The scent was intoxicating.
    “Ow!” Hunter winced.
    “What is it?” Casey paused.
    “My legs are sore. Been riding too much, I guess,” he said.
    “Where?” Casey asked. “Here?” He placed his warm hands onto