Ethan
My hand trailed up and down Demyan's strong inner thigh as he cut the lasagna into blocks in the white ceramic rectangular container. We were seated on the dinner table for eight with me by the head and he right on my side. He constantly quivered and when my hand almost went too high he clenched his thighs together then gave me a glare.
"Let me finish," he protested.
"I find it hard to focus," I smiled as I caught a view of his bare ass. Where in the world did Demyan get skirts like this and how were they legal?
He tried to suppress his smile before he plated for both of us, with a salad before he sat down finally able to breathe with my hands off him. We both took a sip of our wine simultaneously before he smacked his lips together then gave me a beautiful smile.
