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John got a text on his phone: “Get over here right now, Markie is about to work out.”
I jumped on my bike and pedaled half a mile like an idiot through the streets of Boston to get to John’s house. I walked in like it was no big deal, red in the face. John pressed a beer into my hand and guided me to the sofa. The TV was on. I plopped down and watched Markie do push ups. He was wearing this tiny pair of red shorts – my favorite color – that barely covered his muscular ass. The V-shape lead my gaze down between his legs to were his balls bulged. The cropped shorts also provided a peek of the pure white straps of his jockstrap which gave me a stupid boner almost immediately. I sighed again in contentment and adjusted myself, then crossed my legs.
Markie paused and looked over his shoulder at the sound two people sitting on the sofa. “Am I bothering you guys? I can do this later if you want to watch TV.”
“No, it’s fine. We can see the TV fine,” John said smoothly. I nodded and sipped.
“Cool,” Markie replied, then went back to his work out.
I looked over at John; I mouthed ‘you are the best straight friend ever’ and we shared a fistbump. God, I had such a crush on Markie. I liked to think he was keeping his body primed for me, you know, for when I actually got the courage to go after him. No one knew if Markie was gay or straight. I would get to the bottom of that eventually, but for now, I was perfectly content with the view. I had even long-ago forgiven him for being a Cubs fan in Boston.

Text is fictional.


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