J showered, dressed and went downstairs to make the coffee while I slept in. When he returned with a carafe and two coffee cups in hand, I was just waking up, still tangled in the sheets and wearing his t-shirt from the night before.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
I stretched and smiled and sunk back down into the pillow. As I watched J cross the room, I was pleased to see him wearing a new pair of pajama bottoms and one of the new t-shirts I got him.
A few months back, I bought J a few changes of clothes to keep here and wear when he spends time at my place–I got underwear and socks, some jeans and t-shirts, a pair of a khaki pants and two button-down shirts, and a couple sets of pajama bottoms and t-shirts for when we’re lucky enough to spend a lazy weekend together hanging around the house.
When he turned to pour the coffee, I saw a sales tag peeking out just below the hem of his shirt. He either didn’t see it or forgot to pull it off. When he set down the carafe, I sat up and yanked it off myself.
“Thank you… but don’t these look stupid on me?” he asked, looking down at himself.
“No, they look good on you, and they’d look even better without the shirt.”
I tugged at his shirt and looped a finger into the waistband of his pajama pants, pulling them down a few inches to see if he was wearing anything underneath. He wasn’t.
“Good boy… ” I let go of the elastic, letting it snap back to his waist. “Now take off your shirt.”
He peeled off his shirt and was about to strip off his bottoms.
“No… leave them on. I like the way they look.”
That was the truth. I liked the way he looked in them. A beautiful bare-chested man in plaid cotton pajama bottoms is strangely sexy in domestic, non-threatening kind of way. They made J look a bit like the too-perfect male models in department store catalogs–wholesome and boyish and playful.
I leaned back on the pillows and looked him over.
“Yep. I like them.”
J raised his eyebrows at me.
“I’m not kidding… you’re hot. Go see for yourself.”
I gestured towards the dresser mirror at the opposite end of the room, but he hesitated.
“I’m serious. Go look at yourself in the mirror.”
He handed me my coffee, walked to the other side of the room, and looked in the mirror for a few seconds before starting to turn back toward me.
“No… stay there. Look at yourself for a minute… really look. You are so fucking sexy…”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Now show off a little… flex for me.”
“What?” He spun around to face me, flashing a perfect smile. He didn’t think I was serious.
“You heard me. Flex! Lift up your arms and make a muscle.” I made a pose as as if I was flexing my muscles to show him what I meant (despite the fact I was pretty sure he knew).
He laughed at my mock effort and did as he was told. He flexed his arms for me, playfully mimicking body builder poses and making funny faces to demonstrate his effort.
“Impressive. You are a very beautiful boy… now face the mirror and do it again and see how beautiful you are.”
He turned obediently, lifted his arms, and flexed at his reflection in the mirror. With his back to me, I admired his beautiful broad shoulders and the smooth muscles of his back as they tapered gently to his waist. As he tensed his arms, the rest of his body tensed too. The plaid fabric pulled taut across the muscles in his perfectly shaped butt. Sometimes I enjoy admiring him from behind almost as much as I enjoy admiring him from the front.
“Good boy… now turn around and drop your pants a little. Show me your cock. ”
He faced me and tugged the plaid pajama bottoms down just far enough to let his cock jut out over the waistband.
“See? You’re almost hard… looking at you turns you on almost as much as it turns me on. I told you you looked good.”
“Thank you ma’am.”
“Now pull up your pants and go get my laptop.”
J looked disappointed for just a moment before he smiled and left to fetch my computer.